Morning Mist

...It was the first time I'd even seen mist rising over a lake. The emotions that I'd been suppressing all these years started to do the same, finally; creeping their way up out of a silent and calm body to swirl and chill, and hopefully to vanish into an embracing, forgiving, cleansing air. I want the pain and guilt to evaporate from my bones, leave the net of my tissues and seep out through my scalp, leaving nothing but a tingle at my follicles and an appetite for more than just tea. I want my eyes to drown like spring streams, overflowing from heavy, deposit-rich rains; strong enough to rip boulders from their sockets and crush them into hourglass sand. I want my lungs to fill with the sobs of a hundred wolves under a lonely moon and for my body to shake until it finds peace. I want to cry. Somebody, please make me cry morning mist until these old ghosts have all been swept away into clouds.