intangible
scream into the wind and tell me it doesn’t feel as good as i said it would the anger at the brink is always just barely overflowing
the ocean sounds, a bugle submerged, and you cut the palm of your hand on sea glass in the sand i think it’ll scar
is this the most solid of grounds, i ask grainy and unstable will it hold up the weight of your blood and my gaze and my wandering thoughts
though we press our hands together and lean into the wind, it is always stronger don’t you know it knows you and your cracks it’s not a whirlwind, it’s a hundred thousand ghosts all in unison
who clasp their hands together like it will make them a solid thing i am not a solid thing and nor are you and the wind will hold me close but you will always hold me closer
