Coco

Don’t kill my birds.

Tommy pays taxes.

April runs a side hustle selling cursed bath bombs on Etsy.

They have dreams.

They have a 401k.

They just bought a tiny house in a haunted forest

Reflected back at me,

I see myself through the sea.

My traits written in the stars,

I think back to the planet far from mars.

Where dreams weave themselves into reality.

A single spark, a fleeting breath, 

This wild, precious life, defying death. 

I'll chase the sun on windswept shore, 

And seek the truths I can't ignore. 

I could fly.

Not like stereotypical Peter Pan style or with bird wings

but with a shirt

with built-in handlebars

I soared and failed

crashing into my ceiling.

I told my brother to hop on