Between Bruises & Blooms

This is probably
a terrible thing
to admit,

but some nights

I would rather
be at Basgiath.

Yes.

The place
where people fall
to their deaths,
dragons incinerate
whoever annoys them,
and surviving Tuesday
is apparently
an achievement.

Still.

At least there,
the danger
has a name.

At least fear
has wings.

At least you know
what you are supposed
to run from.

My anxiety
has never been
that considerate.

It does not roar.

It whispers.

What if?

What if?

What if?

until my heart
is sprinting
while my body
hasn't moved
from bed.

So give me dragons.

Give me war.

Give me Violet
walking onto the parapet
knowing damn well
she might fall.

Give me impossible odds
and people
who survive them anyway.

Because there is something
strangely comforting
about a world
where courage
doesn't mean
being unafraid.

It means shaking,
hurting,
terrified—

and climbing
onto the dragon
anyway.

Maybe that is why
I keep listening
long after midnight.

Why Iron Flame
turns into Onyx Storm
and suddenly
the birds outside
are waking up.

I am borrowing
someone else's courage

until daylight
makes me remember

I have some
of my own.