Moon raise your head from a soft horizon bed shine on a thirsty ground. Sun steals the water for sky
Sometimes I rise in the middle of the night to go outside and stand naked in the rain.
To smell the cool soft downpour and glistening leaves and feel the heat still pulsating out of bricks.
The scent of the previous day’s perfume being drawn up off my skin, enticed off into the night.
Or sometimes, to walk through parks on balmy pubescent summer nights to sit and swing into the air.
All I hear is the whoosh of sky flying past me and my breath, deep and wholesome and captivating.
Thighs clenched, feet outstretched and head thrown back in innocent ecstasy.
All I can see is the darkness fringe of the trees and the stars veiled behind a curtain of hair that flies in and out of my eyes, rhythmically.
Some days I walk for hours, epic adventures in search of the perfect piece of carrot cake, moist and topped with cream cheese frosting, walnuts pressed into its skin like studs on a cheap bedazzled jacket.
As I walk I am anointed by droplets of rain from cloudless starry skies.
In a night recently passed, I smelt something that wasn’t right.
I smelt something vaguely familiar yet distant.
I smelt hope.
And hope has no business being here.