i have to be one of the brave
people
reaching out their arms

there is no wind but the air
plays
gently around my eyes

i step out
to easter
fallow
to second winter
under the archway
you find me funny

i have to be one of the debated
people
unafraid and free

there is no snow but the air
escapes
shivering from my throat

you follow
after me
after running
i find you didn’t raise me
even
for a second

you say i let you down; what
perch were you on?
you’re only ever dying in my poems

there are no words but the air
makes
connections i can’t make

softly
recalling
advice
to take my
time. by time
did you mean move on?

i have to be one of the some
millions
charting the night sky

there is no light but the air
shakes
light from inside my mind

i just cry
for even
the void
won’t take me;
in-between
the wrong two things

i have to be by myself
trying
accepting who i am

there is no wind but the air
at least
is staying here with me