You move like there’s no rush. There isn’t. Not tonight. Everything I do lands hard. Doesn’t mean it has to. I don’t know how to just… float. You don’t have to know. You just stop holding on. And if I let go and it’s nothing— Then it’s nothing. But it won’t be. I keep both hands on the wheel of everything. Even the parts I can’t steer. I say it loud so it feels true. I say it twice so it’s clear. I don’t know how to leave things open. I close every door behind me. But something in the way you’re sitting there Says I don’t have to move so fast to be free. I let things arrive instead of chasing them down. Everything gets here when it’s ready. I’ve watched a lot of loud things burn out fast. Slow was never the heavy way. I’m not asking you to trust it all at once. Just enough to loosen your grip. ‘Cause the quiet isn’t empty— It’s just where the weight finally lifts. I don’t know how to float. You already are. Maybe I don’t have to hold this so tight. Maybe letting go isn’t losing. You move slow and I move loud. Somewhere in between we’re choosing. Not fixed. Not fast. Just finally weightless. For once I’m not bracing For the ground. I’ve never let anything carry me before. Then let it. I don’t know how to not be the one holding everything up. You’re not. Not right now. What if I stop and there’s nothing underneath? There’s me. I’m not used to this being easy. It doesn’t have to stay hard to be real. Maybe I don’t have to hold this so tight. Maybe letting go isn’t losing. You move slow and I move loud. Somewhere in between we’re choosing. Not fixed. Not fast. Just finally weightless. For once I’m not bracing— I’m just here.
