it’s been a year. since we decided to go.
and we’ve whispered our dreams. and shook the settling. while we found blooms of peace lilies. in a patient and forgiving white. finding the sun. focused on the foregrounds. displaying the beneath. and mimicking the voices we held in our own heads. to each other in a time so calm that the light through the windows all revealed one color.
but i’m still afraid. that a year doesn’t move enough. that a whisper will become the weight that carries us down. into a small space of each. my unstable stands. your ladders on the walls. separated by some unknown key that opens the dawn. wilting our days into the sadness of dark. while i’m screaming at the injustice of time moving away.