sometimes i’m liquid sunlight,
droplets falling from the heavens
to the steady earth below.
sometimes i’m the raging storm,
my thunder devouring everything around me,
my lightning brilliantly tumbling down.
sometimes i’m wisps of memories
slipping through the cracks in between floorboards,
hollow and unnoticed by the world.
sometimes i’m the wildflower whose roots
are clinging to the edge of a rocky cliff,
desperate to just hold on, but aware
that plunging over the edge is an all-too-close possibility.
sometimes i’m a supernova,
imploding and burning and collapsing,
too much, too alive, to last.
sometimes i’m mountains,
towering in the distance,
strong and proud beneath the everchanging skies.
sometimes i’m the sound of a heartbeat,
steady, safe. neverending.
sometimes i’m the way cloth drapes over a chair,
rippling and reacting to even the slightest movement.
sometimes i’m the roaring flood,
ripping apart the walls placed before me.
sometimes i’m the echoes of a haunting lullaby,
forgotten by the world, but still tucked away in a corner.
sometimes i’m a wildfire,
fierce, untamed. uncontrollable.
sometimes i’m everything,
a cacophony of paradoxes
shoved into the form of a girl,
stitched together with dreams.