Falling, a past that has fled from what's presented, a catch. To hand, a hand, Hand in hand, creating illusion to hold on to. Closed, like shades opposing days ability to burn the nest beneath my back to ash. Afraid, in senses of withering columns placed between the sky and here. Alone, almost to stars where so many are beautiful until you have one. And one is the only, like you. Dawn traces, and day follows in most irrelevant ways. In steps, like those you take, like those I map in hopes of parchment leading to your next. Winds, like your breathing, gave lift to my wings that are you, freeing sorrow through the scent left hanging in the mist in which I'd be searching. Forward, like my locked eyes and motion accompanied by desire of a shift in direction. Worlds, crossed like the entirety of ours, for love, I am forward to the atmospheres, in which its certain, you belong. You, like my catch  in my hand, laid parallel like our earth to us, the wind and wings and beauty, where I means everything, in love, where one means only, like you. Only you.