Hour 15, prompt 15 Plan Trip

When we fly, you take me higher and further.

We have sat close and visited the past,

maintaining eye contact through the laughter and the tears.

To share the names of my demons, to let you see them and know them, by name.

Halfway there, and you wake up from an awkward nap,

we pull out a crystal ball and predict the future, the whole time, you repeat

you and me

you and me

you and me.

When we reorient ourselves, the stars are a blanket of protection softened by clouds.

“I’ve never been this close to heaven.”

you smile, give me one of “those” looks, and lower your eyes until we both can’t want to land.


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