you may say nothing,
but don't tell me it doesn't feel strange to you too.
doesn't it feel strange;
doesn't it feel harsh,
doesn't it ache
to know
we may not be here again?

doesn't it make your heart
pound out of your chest
to know
you will not see the skies from this one specific place again?
doesn't it weigh upon your shoulders
to fear
that we may not meet again?

doesn't it make you nauseous with the whole heaving hurt of it,
and the entirety of your relief.
don't you get torn
between good riddance
and i'll miss you,
between is this the taste of freedom,
the heady weightlessness in my chest,
and take me back; what i would give to do it over.

doesn't it make you go weak-kneed.
to think, we're almost there.
we've made it, and now
who even knows
where next to go.