I guess I’m out of feathers. The air is heavy. I feel the weight of everyone who has ever loved me sink to my stomach- right below my rib cage.

This is the moment where I decide to surrender to myself.

The skies bleed blue and still I wonder how I can bleed red after all this time. How my veins can still work even though I’m filled with ghosts. I’m not human. I’m not a hero. I’m not bones that hold me upright. I’m half in this world. Floating aimlessly in the midst of my surroundings. It’ll never keep me whole. I’ll never be full. I’ll never be devoted to this earth.

Lately I’ve been asking my angels to carry me home. I feel tired from the pressure- and I hope they can lend me some sort of security. I guess I’m out of feathers, so maybe I can use theirs to burst through those dark skies and rest until mourning is over. -AMT ©️