of stardust and rockets. - napowrimo

 

You reached out a hand

and I grasped, so tightly,

clinging on for dear life.

 

I never knew I needed this,

until this was something

lost in the wilderness.

A kiss just to say,

I’m here, it’s okay.

I’m not going

to let you fall.

Just believe in me.

 

And believing had

always been so hard

from behind

my brick walls.

 

But you reached out,

and held me,

and that meant

more than anything.

The elements of the universe

all converging. To converse with me.

To say. It’s okay.

You will get through this.

Believe in the stardust and rockets.

Believe in the moon,

believe in the fairy song

that sings out of tune.

 

Most of all believe in you.

You've got this.

 

And belief had always been so hard

when I’ve always picked the wrong cards.

When I’ve always let my heart

get broken in half.

Instead of handing it to someone

that would accept it...

even if it’s in shards.

 

But you held out a hand,

and for that I’m blessed.

 

Because when hurt and fear

make a nest in the cavity

of your chest,

it can feel like gravity

has turned upside down

and you feel

you are flying away

to become lost in space,

just a faded memory,

of stardust and rockets.

On the wind that weaves

 

I chased my dreams,

but they always seemed

to be fading into

the distant snow,

like footprints

of another winter's day.

Running away to

someplace

only you know.

 

I chased fantasies,

the reveries that grant smiles,

but every time I got close

the ground would shake, whilst

a chasm would open up

before me. One too vast to leap.

One too deep to stop my thoughts

from falling away from me.

 

I stood like a clinging vine

tethered on one side of this ravine,

watching angels standing so close, so fine,

but so much aching space between.

 

I just wanted to hold onto

the love that spoke

on the wind that weaves,

listen to her speak

and never leave.

 

I chased hearts that

never beat for me,

when the one inside

was crying out to be

loved. I ignored its rhythm,

built up a walled prison

to contain it in and

gave away the key.

 

I ignored my own tears,

so I could wipe away hers,

yet she never even saw

the pain within me.

Just the mask

disguising reality.

 

I stoked fires, using every

stray piece of my emotion

as kindling, to burn,

to keep her warm

when the coldness got inside.

But I was left empty.

My depleted reserves,

just a lone piece

of driftwood at sea,

too weatherbeaten

to ever be used for warmth.

 

I stroked the fires with my palms

and only felt ice upon my skin.