So many days in heaven that you lost track of how many exactly it was. Pulled down by the bellows and the blusters and found yourself looking at the earth from great heights amongst the clouds, savoured it, you were landing soon. Enjoyed the drink and the weed and the weird things you do when you’re weightless and without worries, saw some of the brightest eyes amongst the brightest skies. But you knew you were falling down, amongst all the amazing events of great joy and jubilation, you could just feel that tugging feeling on the hem of your jeans, not aggressively, no, just with enough weight to stroke your awareness. But who would need parachutes?
My thoughtless happiness has crashed down into a vague seriousness and an apparent intended forgetfulness as to the departed atmosphere. It’s hard though; Ghostpoet puts his feelings gorgeously with help.
Ghostpoet ft. Rox – To Something