Staring upwards, sprawled in the grass, I can see the faintest stars in the dark blue sky; framed by the yellow glow of streetlamps and the squares of gaudy community centre banners. Above, the clouds swirl like milk against tea; like dreams against time, like your fingers against my cheek, like love, like hate, like clouds. I shake.
I am drowning. I am drowsing and I am drowning in the grass and it is not enough for me; to stay here, to lie still, to watch the world spin madly on through half-lidded eyes. Through the blurring of my contact lenses, I could almost reach out and drag the stars down to the streets to illuminate the empty roads. I could gather all the light in the sky to find you. Still I shake. It's not enough.
It's not enough.