tears glisten in the moonlight,
but it shines too bright.
blocking out reality,
and the sad fatality.
of my heart,
and it's broken parts.

dear person twenty thousand feet below me,
i’m sorry i couldn’t be your shooting star tonight.
i’m sorry i couldn’t fulfill your wish to
leave;
your wish to wander.
but i’m hoping that you know,
i’m listening.
and i could feel your presence;
i could feel your urge
to be on the same flight as me
so that at least you could be somewhere
other than the four walls that entrap you.

it seems like we’re the only ones awake right now
while your bedroom lamp glimmers twenty thousand feet below me
and while i look out of the plane’s window, looking at your lamp glimmering twenty thousand feet above you.

but don’t worry,
i’ll be here, listening.

my adolescence was meant to be viewed through
orange tones and heavily grained film