Sand.

Here's the part where I get to do all the things we said we would.
Where I keep my promises to myself
Instead of being heartbroken by yours again.
And again.
And, oh yeah.
Again.
Here's the part where I give myself all the things you
Never could, but always wanted to.
This is how I do it on my own.
Rather than carrying you, too.
The kites we flew together just weren't ever quite enough to
Keep my feet from sinking in the sand.
It was grand and lovely, sky full of fireworks, but then
To find that all the waves had washed the sand and the wood away.
I just needed somewhere to stand.
Your coral castle kept melting into wet handfuls of disappointed tear-salt.
An ocean of my tear-salt was never any balm for your soul-deep ache.
You were a hole just too great to fill.
Two bright stars, as ready at the gate to both explode into everlasting light as sink into eachother and draw the sun's last drops in and down.
I couldn't stay and keep watching as your storm kept washing me away.
So off I go - gathering speed toward a massive lightness.
Carrying a fire you know deeply.
I promised myself, for you, that I wouldn't let you drag me down and I hope you keep the same.
This is the best part, you know.
The story where I stop looking back at the spot where our fading footprints fell apart.
And then I start living happily ever after.

Sinus tachycardia.

Wanderlust returns, it seems.
Three weeks and I'm
High Tide
Again.
Three or four weeks' clocked
In and out again.
Find a rhythm in it.
Find a beat you can dance to.
Find your regular arrhythmia
See the next coda coming.
See it and sing it, then.
Keep your wing beats in time,
Take your careful steps and
Make sure you are good.