I Love Your Wings
© Surazeus
2018 12 03
How strange that I always feel phantom wings
cramped inside my chest when I try to breathe.
Whenever I walk into crowd of people,
in the bookstore, on the bus, at the park,
my body wavers numb as fragile shadow
cast by no sun, empty from aching hunger
that swallows my wordless name, so I will
to leap into the sky and fly away.
My feet sink down into hard solid ground,
thrusting roots deep in darkness of despair,
so I become the tree that no one sees
spreading canopy of wings at the sky
where the sun cannot remember my name.
Then she smiles and whispers, "I love your wings".
© Surazeus
2018 12 03
How strange that I always feel phantom wings
cramped inside my chest when I try to breathe.
Whenever I walk into crowd of people,
in the bookstore, on the bus, at the park,
my body wavers numb as fragile shadow
cast by no sun, empty from aching hunger
that swallows my wordless name, so I will
to leap into the sky and fly away.
My feet sink down into hard solid ground,
thrusting roots deep in darkness of despair,
so I become the tree that no one sees
spreading canopy of wings at the sky
where the sun cannot remember my name.
Then she smiles and whispers, "I love your wings".
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