Balloons are held down by anchors. Balloons need anchors, as you need air. But my anchor was taken away from me. Passing the heavens as I float away, swooned by the hollow sound of being alone. Forever known as the sad girl who sang to the crows. The girl who jumped off the deep end, never learning how to swim. There’s no longer anyone.
Riding away from the mourning home, the memories of every long night,
every moment flood me.
My tire hits something and I go tumbling over. The gravel is cold and damp, but I do not shiver. I feel the warmth of my blood, dripping from the open wound. I don’t know where I am but I need to get away.
I start to run.
I run till my heart is left behind,
till the world stops spinning,
no tears left to cry.
Reaching an open field, it’s pouring now. I fall, my head cocked to the sky, tears blending with rain. The crows cry is mocking as they fly above, wanting to eat the last good left in me. I want to scream, shaking the heavens.
“I’m sorry.” I whisper.
“I’M SORRY!” I scream.
Crows’ cackles mix with mine. I want to be seen.
“CAN YOU HEAR ME? I’M SORRY!”
The world shakes but I need it to consume me.
“I tried holding it together,”
I’m sobbing now.
“but I just can’t, not without you.”
The world opens up and the mud, the Birch trees, the sad corn all pour in. I look up once more.
“I’m sorry my love, I’m sorry.”
I whisper before the world engulfs me.
Floating away with the everlasting balloons.
Singing sweet songs to the sad crows.