The way water falls from leaves
After a heavy rain.
Weighed down with
The pressure of atmosphere
All that we have
Just to let ourselves go.
As I make mountains out of molehills,
Dropping myself from far greater heights
Than what could have been lower.
But this is the same way all
When they are too close to the Sun
To open their eyes fully,
Like birds without wings
And underdeveloped feathers.
How can I
When what’s weighing me down
Is the thought of you?
People say that abstracts are intangible
But I can measure and quantify
The impressions you leave on me.