We're two feathers from the same bird,
tail and wing.
You can't tell when we're floating together
Which fell first, and which followed
What happened to the bird.
All we know is that some young thing will grip us in his tiny hands,
Pick us up from the dirty ground
And hold us together in-between two pudgy fingers
Imagining he can fly because of us.
The thoughts crowd me
Scratch at my mind,
A thousand crows fly around
It rains black,
Feathers float down
In slow motion like snow
Each different, unique,
They continue to fall.
My mind confused the feathers
Bloat out light of thought
Am I losing my mind
I see a mirror dive though
Like after a storm,
The thoughts that scratched
Now flown away,
All that is left is a single feather,
A reminder that thoughts
Can claw, scratch at your mind
Consume you in darkness,
But wash it away,
And all that is left is you and a clam mind.
You see, I know this guy,
with bright and gentle eyes—
sunflowers against blue skies . . .
A true angel in disguise.
He’s known since before he could fly
that he wasn’t like the other guys,
or the him in their minds, that decoy,
that never dreams of kissing a boy
for the purest joy. . .
No, he’d have to strengthen those wings
not to tangle in the strings
that sting, and cling, and sling,
to save his prince—
A feathered, armored knight,
he soars with grace and might.
In a weary world of fright,
he’d invite any height –
loyal beyond first light.
And you see, there I was, drowned in muddy water,
with gills choked on death’s slobber,
damned by the wave’s merciless slaughter
of hope, that bled and foamed atop the marauder,
and lost like the sea king’s youngest daughter,
I, a merman bobbed below the knight’s shadow.
He saw the faintest blush
of my lost soul and rushed
to grace me from my grave, flushed
and bathed me amid the rainbows in the waterfall, hushed
my toxic tears, that cursed and gushed,
and pecked my lips, as sweetly as a thrush.
His feathers fluffed, my scales standing on edge.
I nested in the angel’s white down hedge
till my heart and soul was nursed to fledge.
Our skin taught with tingly warm bumps, an intimate pledge.
I a he fell in love with he a him, and love became our kedge.
So you see, while my worries ebb and flow like the moon’s tide,
bringing questions of where a bird and fish can reside,
I trust in him I can confide, never to hide, but cast my fears aside.
We’ve already broken the surface where the air and water collide,
we need not the world far and wide,
we need only to carry each other inside
our arms, and together glide,
feathers and scales side by side.
But like a backbone the shaft holds it all together
The small filaments with hooks,
Holding on to each other like best friends,
Looking for support.
Because with out them loving each other,
And holding on tightly like a web of tightly woven fabric.
The birds would be cold, wet and miserable.
With out feathers birds could not fly.
This to would make them sad,
not being able to feel the wind on their faces.
The wind rustling their feathers.
Birds need feathers to make them beautiful,
With their iridescent colours feathers make birds beautiful.
With out feathers birds would be nothing.
Above our heads
is one giant pillow fight,
and all the feathers fall
from the white sky,
each one drifting
with thousands of others
to the cold ground
Explanation: A poem written in my own time.
You told me once
"People who attempt suicide
Are just angels trying to go home."
That would explain all the pinpricks on my arms
From where feathers fell out of my wings
And the way you made me feel like I didnt belong
And although I've kept trying
I don't know how I can make it home
When you've torn out so many of my feathers