Slow Pull

When it’s good it feels like levitation. Not like we’re flying more like we’re floating drifting. Nothing aimless though. Whatever we want it to feel like that’s what it is. Cool that we can make it up as we go. Here watch me make it up. We can float together we can float apart. Which way do you want to go? Did we already talk about this? The details are slipping away like sand to the sea. How are you supposed to measure the intangible. The time between gets thinner more opaque the more we leave it alone. Like maybe it could break in half or shatter into several pieces. Too many to salvage. The type of growing that moves in opposite directions. Defined by the pain that starts behind your knees then spreads. To every other spot where two parts come together. Elbows shoulders hips fingers and toes keep going. A slow pull. Leaving stretch marks maybe scars or something similar. Because sometimes it can feel like we dreamt it. I wrote some bits down though like how you saw that and felt this how I said this and left that. It can go on for as long as we’d like until we’re weighed down by the stories we keep telling ourselves. But there’s a burn at the bottom of my feet from the fall back down. I’ve already landed.