By Kristina Ridder
You’re so still you can feel the earth move.
You float stagnant like a star in the void space,
Lost to everything but the rhythmic howl of your heart
And the soft call of the future.
The hum of white noise
And radio static fills your veins
Flirting in and out like smoke washed breaths
While you’re stuck in the bottomless abyss
Waiting for a familiar hand to reach out and say
You look up and see the universe
Bursting with screaming yellows and rustic oranges
And colors you can’t even name.
Those are the days you think
“If this is what Van Gogh saw, than
I never want to come back down.”
You don’t know if you’re ever going to get better,
But some days you can see the stars.