I breathe you in
hanging on a wire
The breeze speaks to me
and my soul feels old.
I feel ages old in this moment.
As the wind brushes my being.
i long for the west coast.
a calling. fate, or just coincidence.
location is merely where your body rests.
it doesnt entail the mind actually being there.
these words on my toungue taste bittersweet
and I am unsure of this meaning
but i write
compelled by the suns gaze
and this wind.
brushing my hair back form my sun chapped shoulders
eyes closed, taking it in
just resonating with this incredible wind
i am glad noone is watching
that this moment is mine
for this moment
and I get to interpret it just for myself