Last night I was a bird. 

I remember flying over my best friend's room. 
I saw his eyes staring through his ceiling at me. 

I remember seeing my sister's face
and her hand waving, waving. 

I remember feeling split.
Like I was someone else,
as if I had never been anything other than a ghost. 

When I awoke I was sinking. 
My tangled sheets reminded me of ocean waves
or a pot boiling over. 

Who do I love? 
Who do I want to be?
Why do we crawl towards the light
like it is the only choice we have? 

When I was younger the world was my sky. 
I never fell asleep afraid of my own eyes. 

Why do we throw bricks
into our own abandoned buildings? 

I want to be someone who remembers
or laughs without trying
or both. 

I want to wake after a dream and know that I've flown.