Down

Nothing but the bottom.

In tangled verses. And empty pants. Their skin puddled at the foot of the bed as I wear their skeleton.

I wonder what it feels like to be sure. Close the door behind them and know it will open again.

I never saw him. Besides the face. Terminals without a connection. The static danced. Time choking itself. Dark fists everywhere. Swimming in the sheets. Drowning in the mattress.

Bold anchor pumping out its shape against all that pressure.

Nothing but the bottom.

And everything above it.

There's nothing to see except heaven when the only place to look is up.

Doesn't mean you've found it.