in holding silence,
a ripple of something smaller under the surface
i have never flown over bodies of water so large i could not see land over the horizon
holding my breath as i momentarily watched waves lap at sands i will never see in person
lips parted in a strange smile, still unaccepting of the reality encased in framed glass
assurance living under skin i still have yet to inspect in the mirror with its sharp corners
pinching past until blood vessels break and nails bite through further
flickering flashes ingrained behind closed eyelids
programmed performances repeated recorded in the chandeliers
twinkling lights reflecting refracting a dance of hands, memorized scripts

air becomes thinner as altitudes rise,
meaningless numbers to someone still choking on the sighs trapped in their own lungs
breathlessness tasting like ***** on tongues that drip in honey
beauty pressed between perfectly manicured fangs

in holding silence, in holding breath

air expands as altitudes rise
soon this fantasy will break like accidentally shattered ceramic plates
unreality sinking further into sore muscles and rattling ribcages
rinsed out with surface seawater,
clearing out the seared wounds that unbridled practiced passion
singe into hands not belonging to the celestial
sweat pooled like wax at collar bones
placing wicks atop ballooning lungs
waiting for the flame to reach the bottom