it was the landing, not the fall
I’m falling
and falling
and my back is
burning
but I’m freezing
cold
cold
and the wind is
rushing
and howling
louder than ever
but it’s so quiet.
I should be screaming
but I don’t know
if I am because
this falling
is full of more
freedom than
flying.
The sun is
growing smaller
and the ocean
is getting closer
and there’s a crash
and silence
This poem is about:
Me