with the stars above me
I only breathe in fully in rare moments of walking home barefoot at midnight. Slowly, wearing a simple t-shirt, no make-up, salt in my hair. It’s summer. It’s warm. I dream and I wander and I have rare moments of endless nights where I breathe in fully. I tip toe on the street lines, like a ballerina, and he’s carrying my shoes. I share, I listen, I laugh freely straight out in the night and he smiles, at me laughing, maybe. I don’t think of fame or glory, money or contracts. I don’t think of other years, past or future, the mornings in the hallways, wanting someone to stay. anyone. I think nothing of that, I only think of this sky, this moment, this night. His voice sounding strange and unfamiliar and he has a weird way of turning his whole body towards me when I’m talking, like he wants to take it all in, not just listen—he wants to see it all. We say goodbye and I walk the last bit alone, feeling better. feeling lighter. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ I’m still a free floating leaf in the universe, going places on my own without telling anyone about my plans. I pack my things, board that plane and off I go. I sleep alone, I wake alone, but I have moments of speeding through empty streets at midnight, or walking home with someone who sounds strange and wonderful, telling stories until the sun goes up, and I breathe in fully, wanting to stay a little longer, just another breath. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ If I close my eyes I’m still walking on that street with the stars above me.