Work in Progress

Going along on this journey, the surrounding light paints the grass yellow, then green, then black. Sometimes I can't see where I'm going. There are branches kissing my arms and feet. It's sweet but stings, like the bee that stung the honey cat on the tongue of a butterfly. My blood is dark red and paints these blank roses.

I've been here before. It's like a dream on a loop. And then I look into the sky, and you're above me, with your mighty wings as big as tree branches. If I could climb the air I would swim. Higher and higher. I draw nearer and you draw further. I drew this. I'm drowning.

Oh, I can breathe.