it could make you face all your fears.

pavement, disappearing under my feet. size six nikes. this mile is a conveyor belt, and i’m on it, caught in its motion, relaxing in its rhythm. the night is blue, not black. it’s not too late or early. i like this. i like this. the air sharp in my lungs, the frontiers we are pushing back. running is not hard; it is not scary.

i had anger to bolster me, but i was still terrified. she had crossed the last line, after months of waltzing over them while i stood silent. i screamed at her, on a darkened porch, with a drink in my hand, in her hand. i was not logical or particularly convincing, but in that half-minute of yelling, i opened a long-locked door and walked straight out.

and it’s all a blur now, but in contrast, the sky has been so clear in the past twenty-four. blue, not black. maybe it’s a january thing, this thrilling shade of navy. anyways, for once the stars upstaged no one. (also there were no clouds today). orion was a not a distraction from the moon, and the moon was not a distraction from you. the stars were far, the moon was distant. everything was bright, and not a secret.

(break me to small bits)