The Swing Between Suns

I rise like lightning --
skin humming, heartbeat running ahead of me,
thoughts a river that forgot how to rest.
The world glows gold and I glow with it,
buying joy in handfuls,
rearranging my room and my future,
too alive to breathe slow.

I laugh like I've beaten gravity,
feel brilliant, untouchable --
but behind my ribs a spark
is already turning to fire.
Tomorrow it will burn,
rage filling the gaps the light left.
Every sound too sharp,
every heartbeat too loud,
every breath another battle.

Then the fall --
a drop so deep the air won't follow me.
I hide from the world,
fold myself into silence,
wonder if I'll ever climb out again.

Depression holds me like water --
cold, heavy, endless.
I stop answering texts,
I stop believing I'll ever climb out.
Sometimes the dark whispers my name,
and I almost listen.

My mind whispers endings
while my heart begs for peace.

And yet --
there is something in me that endures,
a flicker beneath the ash,
a quiet promise:
I will not disappear.
I will name the fire,
learn its shape,
and one day
I will hold the light
without burning.