Follow The Skies

I let a little lightning leave my lair,
sprinkled across the air until the sky is high off my mischief.
She knows that I’ve been bound to break the rules,
with my chocolate button stare, that keeps me out of trouble,
and I have often suspected that she finds the whole idea quite seductive.

I break her out of the four walls she keeps finding herself lost in,
and we drink milkshakes as the rain settles into the arms of the lovesick sea.
Sometimes,
all you need is a little push in the right direction,
even if your compass is compromised, and you never learned to read a map,
you can find your way back to the path of your personal prophecy,
and when you’re there,
it feels so easy,
as if being lost was a child’s game that you played, even though you were too old to crouch behind shadows with screwed up eyes.

As we drained the shakes and saw the last of the sun,
I told her to follow the skies, next time.
My fingers buzzed and pulsed every second we were apart,
bursting with lightning as storms brewed in my chocolate button stare that had no choice but to become cyclones,
and the sky would always find a way to lift her from being lost,
settling her back down,
on the right track,
if I asked it nicely.