Baylee

Skyward

Skyward

Skyward

Towards the cardboard clouds

and crayon-colored sky

 

Skyward

Skyward

Towards my darling

Towards my necessary evil

Towards the embrace

that I die without

 

Heavenbound

where the shackles of depression

no longer are my anchor

 

Soaring

Soaring

The wind combing through my feathers

tugging, tugging

tugging me upwards,

wingtips parting the clouds

made of water vapor, rather than cardboard

 

Without caveat

gravity remembers

its duty to the earth

then whips me back

as if my chain has reached its end

 

Whiplash

head thrown back

wings snarled and snapped

 

As the dream ends

and cognizance slams my human form

back onto the bed

where this spurious adventure began.