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When I arrive at the departure lounge of ties tainted with blood, I will not bring with me any baggage packed with souvenirs of days spent choking on air contaminated by grey apathy.
When I bathe in relief after clawing through coats of dirt, of years spent plucking thorns from the thick of my heels, I will cleanse myself of any residue. The freshness of hopeful convalescence will outpour the mud deposited in the crevices between my calloused fingers and nails.
When I lay under the veiled indigo sky with glittery stars speckled across, I will cancel out all noise. The screaming and crying will fade into silent resonance. I will let the heavens show me the dance of a billion burning suns.
There is no reason to hold on to a past full of grief, ceramic sink overflowing with mercury. Yet, it clings to my brain, like a child unwilling, adds the weight upon atlas shoulders to my frail heart spewing blood. Filtered yet present, removed but persistent. All is easier said than done, when desire pools in the punnet of a mind held hostage by a consanguine cage.
