Moving On

I’m not getting on that plane. never again. the time has past and the skies have fallen. we currently live in the rubble of Florida’s blue skies. and in the darkness, there is a silent nothing.

the stars call to us because they are mute. they shine without speaking, without making a sound and here we are echoing all across the summer in our beer bottles and lawn chairs. the distance between the Earth and my heart is non-existent — they are the same.

I press my ear to the ground and instead I hear gunshots. I hear the violence of every day life. I hear the world breathing, getting bigger and then smaller. her belly doesn’t stop shifting. one giant rock and we are so far. we keep missing each other, missing each other. I move on, the world is dying. we have to prepare for mourning.

Author: Erica V.

Always seriously joking and rambunctiously soft-spoken.

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