Wings
A pair of wings
hatched from my shoulder blades
when she twisted me like a rubber band propeller with,
"Do you have a big suitcase?"
let it go
let the blades shred the air with,
"Because you're gonna need it."
And I spun so rapidly,
rockeded so high
until my instincts kicked in,
autocontrol flipped on
to dodge the Sun
even when I knew my feathers
were made of much more durable promises
than wax.
YOU ARE READING
Paint Us Gray: Part 2
Poetry(This is part 2; please read part 1 first!) Rejection. Betrayal. Heartbreak. Grief. Unfortunately, we've all had a swallow, some more than others, of this bitter brew. This is just a sliver of my chapter that is a part of this world's grand nar...
