I want to be soft,
I want to be light.
Delicate enough
that heart
is no longer synonymous
with heavy.
Fill me
with helium
and cut the string.
Hollow out my bones.
Wring my brain of its density.
Ink me onto paper
And feather every page
between fingers and thumb.
Touch until touch is numb.
Breathe in until body is floating.
Then let go.
This is knowing.
This is living.
Right?