The sky looks artificial tonight.
Strawberry pink bleeding into violet,
like someone tipped a glass of paint across the clouds
and forgot to clean it up.
I’ve never seen it this bright-
or maybe I’ve never looked this closely.
The city glitters below,
tiny sparks breathing in the dark,
shrinking itself into something
I could hold in my hands.
I laugh.
It sounds lighter than I expected.
The wind rushes past my ears
carrying secrets it refuses to repeat,
pulling at my clothes
like it wants me to follow.
It feels like flying-
like gravity
temporarily forgot my name.
The thought of falling
doesn’t scare me.
It dissolves.
Everything is warm-
even the air that should sting,
even the space between me
and the ground that waits.
The lights blur together now,
smearing into gold and silver halos-
or maybe I’m the one
losing shape.
The sound thins out,
like cotton pressed over the world.
I don’t feel the edge anymore.
Only color.
Only weightlessness.
The sky swallows the pink.
The city stops blinking.
And I’m still smiling-
not because I’m gone,
but because for one suspended moment
I belonged to the sky.