I move as gracefully as I can, trying to hold myself together. My arms gently spreading to the side as I delicately point my toes, the suns slowly setting as if trying to keep the moment alive through her warmth, holding herself between our two worlds. The stars are shyly appearing and illuminating the sky joyfully, but tears are running down my face as I slowly turn and leap, the dance is perfectly choreographed. A dance that smiles and opens its arms out in a hug. It goes with a song about happiness, rather ironic for the situation. My slowly breaking sniffles become more and more desperate, reminding me that I’m just a broken doll silently falling to pieces. I stop and take a breath, thinking of all that’s been lost, taking moment before sadly smiling I return to dancing, beginning to sing along to the imaginary tune in my head. You can do this make it to the end of the dance, you just need to sing the song, our song. I’m just thinking of you as the tears begin to fall again. I should be over this by now I shouldn’t cry until my eyes hurt or suddenly feel immortal, insane, then falling so low I even go as far as to begin to think of joining you with my twisted view of heaven. The birds are flying, moving on. Birds don’t really have a home I guess I’ve never thought about that until now, they just have a pile of twigs and moss that they leave after a while, they have no possessions. Or maybe they do maybe we just don’t see them and perhaps all sticks are different to them. If there are gods that’s what we must look like to them. If so maybe there’s a whole world for animals and plants we don’t see: I mean have you ever seen a plant weep for the one trampled underfoot, killed in a second? We could be like that to gods- completely unreadable our possessions seemingly all the same, maybe the gods don’t understand us, maybe we are just strange creatures and the gods do not watch us lovingly, they do not understand that we are crying in pain they do not understand that we kill ourselves. Imagine that we are a whole world away from them and they don’t even think of us as equals or things that think and love and and have possessions, maybe we are just simply the strange creatures that spend their days wondering around making strange sounds and hurting each other, taking from each other possessions that don’t even look like anything but little bits of plastic to the gods. With a shaky exhale I finish the dance, my last. Perhaps the gods will show mercy and take this broken bird, but I fear they can’t. For my wings are long broken, and I am long out of hope. But god, god god god, gods. What I wouldn’t give to see him one more. My beautiful baby.