Floating

A shell of myself, almost like i'm just floating in place. Somehow it's all I know, as i'm trying to ride the wave of wind back to your heart; a journey so strenuous, it feels as though i'm fighting for my life. Every road block, every gust of wind that pushes me further from you, is as real as the hot air you spilled into me. Why do I need you to hold onto me so tightly? Hands that grip me as they claim love, yet never allow me the room to fly. Being pulled down, tied to an idea of what could be if I just float like I'm supposed to. Floating in the same spot, suffocating from all this hot air, choking on the pressure of your hands as they tie my string to keep me from flying away.

To lose your sense of self, is to feel like an object. I am but a string for you to grab and pull as I float perfectly behind you. A balloon that has the ability to touch the sky but can never stray too far away without getting yanked back into place.

Dearest reader, have you ever felt like a balloon?