U

I feel like
Ninety-nine red balloons released into the sky

Strings caught
Or the hand released
But whose hand?

I feel the devil is in the detail

The color, the balloons, the fluid from my heart
An arrow headed for it, predestined to puncture
Suspended now in animation

For what could have, did not
The arrow, falling, cascading through layers of stagnation

And upon this realization, it occurred to me
That I
Was just thinking about you