Physics

I know that space is necessary.
That breathing in precedes breathing out.
That it’s the combination that lets us live.
But do you remember when we were kids?
Turned our faced popping red
testing lung capacity and stubbornness
packing convulsing chests with as much as they could stand.
I’ll admit now, I was a cheater.
Sneaking silent exhales through my nose,
all puffed cheeks and breastbones,
pudgy fists clenched around the hope that I could still hold everything in.
Even falsehood.
My mother told me I could do anything,
but she never mentioned those cosmic laws,
like what goes up
must come down.
When you breathe in,
you do have to breathe out.
That trophies won by lies will lie right back in their elusive shine
and that when it comes to matters of the heart,
Putting your mind to it can be as effective as using your naked palm to stop an avalanche.
It’s physics.

So can I blame the laws of attraction for the magnets in my chest?
It’s interesting that you always claim to be too negative,
apologising for heaviness as if ships never needed anchors.
As if my entire being were feather light
whisked higher by every updraft in the ecstasy of total surrender…

I think sometimes I’ve caught you holding your breath.
Not in child’s play,
or in stubbornness.
But in the hope that if you’re still enough
If you’re still enough
These holy winds won’t change,
will stay on course to wherever it is they’re taking us.

And yes, to be honest,
I feel pretty light.
I’m a positive person most of the time
but baby, that’s just it.
I’m telling you,
It’s physics.
This attraction is as sweet as Newton’s apple,
It’s the magic of magnets.
The romance of feathers and anchors.
The fact that you can’t breathe that far underwater
and the air gets way too thin for me up there.
The gravity of this situation has displaced us both
in that cheeky way that growth has of wrenching up and tearing down.
Infusing everything we thought we knew with everything we know we don’t.
Setting my feather feet on solid ground,
so I can dance better now.
Which is ironic,
because you don’t dance in public.
But that’s perfect.
It’s exactly what I’m saying.
That it’s at the confluence that we see
Sparks
Electric
Sparks
Magnetic

The lovechild of the laws of physics
Gasping
Sparking
It’s first breath.

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