gravity owns you

The air never fills my lungs completely, most of the time I’m heaving through a hand sewn smile. No one has to know—look through me.

Long before this vessel was even made, something was already broken. Wires wouldn’t know to embrace each other, parts couldn’t fit together, and to this day, cannot move freely—They cannot remember their name.

Maybe it’s the way my parents were never meant for each other,
Or the way the Universe was vibrating when I was pulled from the sky
To become one with my precious maman.

In a world so full of cracks that all the love falls through, it’s hard to believe that anyone or anything could ever be made whole. The odds are quite slim that the Light will prevail, but someone has to believe—right?

I liked to think that I defied this apparent rule, but before I could even walk, the wine was leaking through my joints, and that non-existent smile. A fool for love, a fool for Light…

Faith like a poison keeping me hooked to a sweet delusion of grandeur, a narrative that someday somehow I could be something bigger. A distraction from the cracks—there from the start and deeper each passing second—through which all that is good is leaking as I fail to become.

Time digs a little deeper each day; the grave around me and the one within me. I’ve been taught complacency in misery. The bravery was only a disguise I was made to wear to comfort the ones that raised me, convince myself that my blood would suffice to pave the way.

Take it from me, the one who stole my mama’s wings yet never learned to fly:

No matter who you pretend to be,
What strengths you pretend to have inside of you,
Gravity will always bring you back to this Earth.

Gravity will always remind you of what’s true: the ground beneath our feet owns you.

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