one small death at a time

I want to close my eyes now.
My eyelids are heavy.
I can’t stay here.
I am walking.
I am running.
Faster and faster until my feet are treading air, higher and higher and I’m wiping the clouds out of my eyes and picking the trees off my clothes. It’s so blue up here, like the sea, and it has her pulse. My old dog runs to greet me. God, I’ve missed her. You are here too, my beloved friend. You’ve been waiting for me. There’s an almost finished crossword puzzle on your knee. You show me how to build my new home. How to pluck things from below to decorate it with. I choose some lavender fields, swamps, rolling hills. Horses with long manes that carry me over my home at such a speed it makes my eyes water and I almost forgot they do that. There’s no need for parallel parking. My horses just sway when I jump off their silky backs. I take the weather, all of it. I plant a willow tree, to remind me what melancholy felt like. We watch each others dreams for entertainment and throw popcorn at each other during the funny parts. There’s your hand in mine during the scary bits, though they become fewer and fewer. I order up vanilla bean desserts, but I make my own stew. It’s good for the soul. I blow the moon away when I feel like twirling to the thousand birds who sing just for me in the morning.
Yes,
I can close my eyes for this and never open them again.
I want to close my eyes now.
I close my eyes.