Despite it all, 

for the first time–

These arms don't feel foreign

and the doubt is gone.

I crave nothingness,

knowing it will lift me and hold me.

It will cradle my frame

as I sink.

 

The corner of my lips harbor sweet crumbs 

and my face is glowing pink

from the heat of the fire.

Sticky fingers. 

 

And as the blanket is lifted, 

My arms swing wildly, 

Tending towards a state of disarray.

And as I fold with freedom,

I feel the pure euphony 

of my weightlessness.