By Kristina Ridder

Some days

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

“Come home.”

Some days

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

Oh, God,

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.