Indefinitely
I wanted wings to soar above clouds
to be able to catch stars in my palms
and to cradle myself between galaxies
now the picture is drawn differently
words make me fly
clouds look prettier from down here
my fingers are calloused from brass string
and there is no set amount of galaxies one can find
I’ve learned homes are found in either suburbs or chests
only then I feel that I can claim to belong to gravity itself
