Blood rushes to my face,

climbing ever higher.

The voice on the intercom breaks,

a wave of meaningless sound

lost on my ringing ears.

These eyes are flooded

with the memories of yesterday.

As the plane rises,

the world below me

sinks into the closing dark.

Thoughts rattle in this cabin,

building in pitch and strength,

as I wait for the pressure

to equalize my rapid breathing

and set my mind at ease.

Chewing on the air,

at ten thousand feet,

I am unable to shake the feeling

that I left my heart

back on the ground.

I look out the window,

searching and scanning

for some secret message

inscribed on the rolling hills,

a map back to the life I knew.

If time is the healer,

and distance is the cure,

let this rising altitude

somehow prove to be

the salve to my wounds

All I am now is a dot of light

blinking in the night sky,

barely perceptible,

drifting away from a place

that was always just out of reach.

— B.


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