the warmest light

tell me to move or to breathe fresh air.
Tell me this isn't a typewriter, that these are all my words. That this was all my idea. Tell me to come down from the clouds away from the light.
I don't want to hear it. I just keep lifting myself up with you, doing it hand in hand and I'm loving every minute of it. Every moment of independence. Every second of feeling like these blankets were made specifically for this instant. I need to be reminded of that always, and if you get me there? You can't be wrong. You can't be all that bad. I have to shrug off the old skin from those weeks and start fresh. Continue dancing to the Kingston station and let go of my arms. Keep my feet rooted in the true substance and get closer to the light. The warmest light.

Don't bring me down from this.