Poem of the week: Catching Wind by Bittersweet

catching wind,

slender fingers reach out,

grasping everything and nothing.

curling over like dead men: five fallen.

this smothering air you breathe in;

you live for the unobtainable.

yet it’s always moving around you,

for it cannot leave. it will not leave.

it fills you up,

and it pushes you away.

your foe is your friend.

Love me.
[Read full poem on YWS!]