I want to tell my online friends I love them

I would hold you if I could. as in,

gather your pieces in my hands, cradle

them in between the warm folds of my palms,

and sliver the heat so that none of it spools

onto the surfaces you have not yet offered

light. if I were a sculptor, I would

shape you a body out of that light, bend

you vocal chords from text and prism

you a mouth from paragraphs. because

I know you are still out there somewhere, trying

to scream. because I know you are still trying to find

something kinder inside the grief you call sky.

you told me once that the sadness was

enormous. that the clouds were falling.

that you were tired of holding yourself

in flight. I would hold you if I could,

your skeleton of sentences that is really

just a pair of wings struggling to stay in motion.

I want to swaddle your stories in warmth and tell you

yes, there is a place for us somewhere.

there is a place for every dreamer who

does not want to wake up.

there is a place.