For my love, my Pilot.

For my love, my Pilot.

I wonder if there ever was a story behind your desire to fly. I reckon there was a day that your father taught you how to walk. And there came a day that he let you down. When your feet ceased trembling on the ground, his smile was as glorious as the sun that rose when you first gazed the world. And as his smile landed on your mother’s eyes, they knew what you were always meant to do.

I wonder why you wanted to befriend the smell of the grease on your hands embracing your skin like the women you once loved but never kept. I wonder if they tasted like drugs like their kisses, like the high that you desire; the high that love makes you. I wonder if it felt like countless shots of morphene, in solid faith believing that as long as you’re at home with the clouds the monsters that creep below will never hurt you.

I wonder why you wanted to memorize each screw of those engines. Perhaps there might have been a day that you knew how to put yourself together and there were days that you didn’t. Like knowing every inch of the stratosphere above the fabric of the earth but never understand, nor comprehend how to soar with them.

I wonder why you wanted to fly. How many times did the world let you fall? How many times have you been caught? How many times have you caught yourself realizing that none can fathom, none can overpower the magic that flying brings? Was walking, was falling never enough to make you believe that dwelling on the earth’s crust, savoring each step on the soil alone can bring you home? The place right where you belong. The heart where you truly reside.

Thrust. Lift. Drag. Weight. They said. The right variables for a safe flight. But they never secure us from the wrath of turbulence as we traverse the path away from the eye of the storm. Here it comes, love. The stratosphere is not safe now. The lightning catching up with our feet. The thunder clapping in our hands. Blazing like torches in the dim sky. A thick cloud of cold smoke smothering the light. Tell me. Do you still want to fly?

I wonder if there ever was a story behind your desire to fly. I wonder why you wanted to befriend the smell of the grease on your hands embracing your skin. I wonder why you wanted to memorize each screw of those engines. I wonder why you wanted to fly. Do you still want to fly? I’m frightened, love. I’m frightened like the whimpering cat that I was when you first met me. But if it is really is a lion heart that you possess… Brave enough to fight, the storm, the shadows, the darkness, the world. Love, do you still want to fly? Love, I’m scared but I’d like to see you try.

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