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Heaven


We were pulled from the wreckages while this holy fog is a monstrous cloud devouring our shattered automobile. Slamming against my soul, we hang from our seatbelts like puppets and God is the puppeteer. We are rag dolls, we are astronauts parasailing across the rusted sky. Eyes rolled back like marbles out of the velvet bag. Hearts dangling, minds disappeared into our intertwining bodies, wrapped around like ribbons of this present called heaven.

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Kayla Ocasio

I write poems and seldom share them. I am an inspiring poet from upstate New York. I am a Journalism and French major. While simultaneously becoming a United States Marine.

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