i made it through the winter
not once did a single echo make it back to me
never did sound pass the confines of my tired mouth
any hope would have been ill-fated
trying would have been futile,
fruitless
my efforts were solely focused on making it to this moment
aimlessly i drifted through this atmosphere of doom
every breath one step closer to my annihilation
but that never phased you
you knew where you would wind up
among the sounds of this midsummer's morning
us, together flying in concentric circles
the head of the girl i lead at the center of it all
quite aware that the echoes coming back to me (to her) [to us]
are your finite fabrications meant to keep me awake for just a moment longer
so you can [try] to break my wings
again - i find this
infinitesimal and perpetual
predictable - i know what's headed my way
i get it. i get you
i dawdle a bit. slow the trite movement of my delicate arms,
always reaching out to take me higher,
giving you an opportunity to pounce
on the only thing you've been grappling for this whole time
but today, i'm not lost or looking for home.
my mind can only regard this as farcical now
and i can feel nothing but the monotonous beating of my weary heart
i'm numb.
i sense the sun coming up over the horizon and my energy's abating rapidly
i gather the state of my anticipation
or the lack of interest in participating, in trying to escape
has led you to save your trials for another day,
i'll be expecting you.
i quietly diffuse back into the girl i call home
allowing my thoughts, my words, my echoing voice
to be expressed once more.