I clutch onto the ballon.
My feet dangle, 
as they skim over fluffy specks of dust

I tie the string around my hand 
and promise to never let it go. 
Just my balloon and me.

It catches onto a slight breeze,
bobbing and weaving past razor
sharp mountains.
​
My heart rockets,
ready to blast off into the horizon. 
Complete bliss fueling the engine.

But all it takes is a single branch,
beneath the bustle of green blades,
to pop what is fragile.

Flimsy string slips from my grip 
as I plummet 
back to planet Earth.

Anxiety slaps me in the face,
then says sorry. 
He swirls his fingernails deep
within my wounds,
then proceeds to ask how 
he can mend them. 
He stays up all night whispering 
cold, empty words into my ear, 
with the simple motive 
of seeing how long it will take 
for me to scream. 

At night when he jumps on my chest,
my whole heart does summersaults 
inside my body.
I wish he realized 
I'm not a trampoline. 

I often tell him he should pursue another career-
that I don't care for the pictures he paints in my head. 
But that's another thing about anxiety,
he doesn't listen. 
​
He is not the friend that hugs 
me when I'm down and strokes
my hair to tell me I am beautiful.
Instead he unwinds my progress 
and taints the image reflecting 
back at me.
His honesty turns to lies 
and I often forget what the difference is. 
I wish I could get him to leave,
but he has made my body his home. 

Sun:
I rouse
them from their sleep
with gentle kisses. 
Their petals unfurl 
against my glare. 
I promise
to always return.
For they should never dread 
the dark. 

Boy: 
I envision
the dimples 
that will illuminate 
her cheeks 
when the whiff
of summer infuses 
her senses.
Dainty buds
always blossom
with time. 

Husband:
When she sniffs
the sweet fragrance 
will the years of forgetting 
and empty silence
become a distant 
blur?
Can it buy
us back our youth 
and erase
the fine lines creased
across our brows?
Will it stand
as a remembrance 
that life requires
more than sunlight 
and water 
to really consider 
one alive? 
​