Letter I found your letter. I thought you were feeling better. Had I known you were still down I would have stuck around. Had I known you were in pain. I would have... I don't know. How could I force you not to feel low? I've never been through What you've gone through. So how could I know how far you would go? I'll not worry about blame. It's not your fault. It hurts to even say your name. So, I won't. I'll leave you in the past. But some things linger. The good times and the bad, all the fun we had. Memories float. I wish I'd spoke to you before you wrote the letter. And not say that things would change for the better. This is Only a Peak This is only a peak Trust the owls. They are binding, as is the liquid that steams in day. Drink. Rise above. Reach the clouds. See the rain down. Sweep slowly as the band plays blissfully. Suit and tie protection futile. Exploding, yet the way is laid. Crawl over the couch, a final breath serenade. The room is the last color seen. Dance. Don't simply sit. Dance. Compressing Cloud The cloud comes in many forms. It makes you ponder what ifs? It makes you consider regrets. It makes you unappreciative of the present. You become a mess of "I should have" and "Why did I...?" It squeezes you into mush, a crinkled picture of your former self. The bed is so much safer than the world. It comforts, suffocates in a different way, coddles. It could almost be your final resting if you allowed its privilege. Wolfpack Contributor Bio: Rickey Rivers Jr.