gravitating towards the door
revolving/evolving
because
i am what i choose,
i've been begging for
heaven
since the first time
i saw the sky
i'm a static mess
i want to coalesce
with its meaning
.i want the door.
a long time ago
a few heavy sunsets ago
i was an emptiness
you riot,
does the pomegranate taste sweeter where you rest?
is the relief palpable?
are you breathing deeper?
you're still making choices
still becoming
summer child
june chose the deathbed
never had drier eyes
we had a few laughs
to lighten up all things inevitable
we're still making choices
still becoming
if heaven sits like a crown
upon the head of the firmament
how much wonder does it take
how many choices still left
to reach it?