Only air separates the soles of my feet and the dirt on the ground.
Up and down
and up and down.
I feel weightless and light
and then sink with the heaviness of rushing back to the ground.

My eyes lock into yours.
I watch that as you go up
Earth catches me and drags me back to her.
When I go up
I feel nothing but the guilt of you being on the ground.

I have stopped pushing off.
My flight is dependent on how much you bend your knees.
But I am afraid if I get off, I will not be able to rise on my own.

So I cling on to the cold metal that connects us.
As I rise, I make my self heavy to sink back into the ground,
into my grave.

I hope for balance,
but until then its
Up and down
and up and down.