i hear the tales of others as they tumble off these cliffs together and crumble to the ground and they reverberate with the soothing notes of humming strings of sympathy, but i reassure myself in knowing that the gentle swinging will send fragments of wind coursing through their entwined fingers

i sit on crisping fading grass idly blushing and batting eyelashes, grasping for seedlings of empathy floating on the wind, struggling to make a wish that would reach you because mind over matter means that forays into the frail and subtle can elegantly elude you

but i see you in the sky and every cloud floats by is another reason to never leave and i will never let you go no matter how much disdain you may have for me in days to come days which roll on like the hilly terrain of the distance between us which i traverse with trembling grasps

i am too pastel but i’ve begun to adapt the grittiness of sun-dried leaves