hope.

Where do these clouds go?
Do they have a home?
Do they take turns painting the sky?
Do they rest in a hidden sanctuary?
Or do they just glide through the earth like myself?

I heard nerds say that clouds condense,
They are droplets of water vapour,
Suspended in an ocean of air molecules.
What nonsense! I say back.
How could you just reduce them to droplets?
Don't you see that they are full of stories?
Have you never seen a cloud stare back at you?

Never noticed the dinosaur leaping,
reminding us of lost worlds?
The girl with pearls, begging for love?
The teddy bear, worn and hollow,
whispering the futility of life?

But the nerds aren't totally wrong.
They were right about the transformation.
Like clouds condense to rain,
and rain freezes into ice,
I, too, long to change—
to solidify into something more.

I might not have the right to do that,
Because I'm empty.
No stories remain to be told,
no pages left to fill.
No criticism to be made,
No editors to be hired.

My life stumbled like a broken melody,
It just held onto the past hurts.
Wrote down rules that were hard to break,
Replaying every single trauma day after day,
I repeated the lines like an experienced actor.
And the receivers of the dialogue did the same thing.
They left.

Though my life and I spoke like responsible adults sometimes,
We sought therapy to feel— sane.
But today, we're getting divorced.
I can't do this anymore.

The clouds look at me as I move closer to the edge,
It can see that I'm standing on one of its forms I've seen before,
A cloud that transformed to ice. The pearl girl.
It desperately calls for 911.
It's shouting at me.
But I sigh and put one foot far away from the other.
It's now or never.

I expect darkness but all I see is light.
Someone is pulling my sleeve,
It's someone I know.
Myself.
I see myself pulling at me.
Begging not to leave.
Speaking of something called hope.
What's that?
Does it even exist?
Yes, it answers me.
There is hope.
Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist, it says again.

I draw my foot back.
I want to know of this hope.
Suddenly, the flashback of the dark memories.
A soft music plays after the memory lane.
Another vision starts playing gently.
I see a version of my life I've never seen before.
Bands of happiness,
Warmness of relationships,
And streaks of elation.

What is this hope? I ask.
And I'm shown medals for hard work.
Rings awarded along each milestone.
It looks strange.
And it feels strange.
But me and my life would have a remarriage.
A very glamorous one.