WHAT SORT OF AIR

sometimes I find myself wondering what if
I had a little more bravery back then,
just enough to pack my bags
and run away with you.

light years off the grid.

you swore you’d show me
the tallest mountains. call us explorers
of the great unknown. promised to
tether me deeper, further than what
my eyes could catch when they’d squint
past the locked gates of my childhood
home. the dollhouse suffocated me.
you’d show me the world. be my map.
that, right there, was your oath to God.
you were going to bring me
to the bluest blues, the thinnest air.

yet I find myself wondering.
what if I had been brave enough?
to say yes, take me, let’s leave
under cover of midnight, you
wild
beautiful thing,
save me from this
perfect prison.

wondering where we’d be right now.
probably under some starless sky.
who knows what sort of air
we’d be breathing in.

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