singularity

by ty

extension of the lost boy, also my favourite piece in the portfolio i’m submitting for CAP. 

there is always something special about a boy chasing dreams: the way his eyes peek out from beneath his disheveled hair with hints of passive sprite, thin frame barely filling his favourite filmy sky blue flannel.

he spends nights with worn pencils and worn planners, tracing the coarse edges of the planets and galaxies which he’d dreamt of as a child, a soft smile tugging on the right end of his dry lips as he adds the finishing touch – sirius. it’s the brightest star in the sky, he’d exhale when the tip of his pencil chips right before he completes his sketch.

nothing matters more than staying grounded with the soles of his trainers against the gravel because he’s been stuck in orbit for so long, with not enough momentum to push him out. and hope is always there, seemingly at a standstill, gravity enough to pull him in but not enough to propel him all the way. he wounds up shifting his weight periodically from foot to foot in the end, the metallic taste of failure, bruised elbows and weak wrists spilling over his pale skin.

but the thing is he always found it fascinating how having every crevice of his body aching with palms pressed against mirrors never ceased to make him love the sun over the moon, even when he grew to realise that with numbered breaths and weary lungs, you can never touch the sun.

speak softly and carry a fire in your chest, because theoretically everything is arbitrary and free to be defined.

and even if he couldn’t touch the sun, he could replicate it’s warmth by standing a little taller and perhaps letting his eyes flicker up to meet his own reflection, for a start.

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