Infatuation
Or maybe an infection
I am stuck on you

If you should love me
You will learn the meaning of
What it is to live

People are composed of little bits we can not do not see
Bits in baskets handed out, these are the bits that make up me
I don't know what you'll do with em, but I want to trust
Mine in exchange for yours, my stardust for your stardust
A fair and even trade, an open sentence plea
Please be good to the parts you can not do not see

You were a moon once
Tidal force your specialty
You have since gone dark

Like the sunset
On a rainy day

You are missing

How is it
that one person can be both
the sunset that never came
and
the sun that set too soon?

Dear god of feathers,

Father to flight
Cousin to pillows
Step-father to sneezes
Brother to quills
Other brother to bad poetry
Godfather to just going with it
And weird uncle to Icarus
It is to you that I direct this prayer

First of all, how dare you
How dare you give flight to a bird with a brain smaller than its eyeball and not to me
How dare you fill my pillow with stuffing that is somehow hot on both sides. How does that even work?
How dare you tickle my heartstrings long enough to make me watery eyed but not long enough to make me sneeze
Letting me love somebody who - wait, no, sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself
I'll start over, because unlike your pillows, I know how to keep my cool

Here is what I really wanted to say, oh god of feathers
Thank you for inked quills. Even if you bully me with your beauty, at least you give me an out
Thank you for reminding me that bad poetry and just going with it are really just the same thing
Thank you for Icarus, who fell from the sky believing 'soaring' and 'human' deserved to be used in the same sentence
I won't pretend to know what it is like to be you
Though, I know what it feels like when you're present

It is true that I will never be able to take to the heavens
But I have known love, and that gets pretty close

By the way, peacocks are crazy

Amen

In the city that never sleeps
It is rare to find a place of rest
Green tree sways, sun sky sweeps
Bird bench beat in a concrete chest
For it is my big apple alibi
To learn to love the passersby