Wings stitched from grief-fiber and daylight,
shaking,
delirious,
aching to lift off
even as the sky splinters open
like a mouth mid-scream.
How dare it?
How dare it fly,
knowing how flammable it is,
how unfinished,
like a sentence left in the throat.
Apr 7
Apr 7, 2026 at 5:02 AM UTC
Wings stitched from grief-fiber and daylight,
shaking,
delirious,
aching to lift off
even as the sky splinters open
like a mouth mid-scream.
How dare it?
How dare it fly,
knowing how flammable it is,
how unfinished,
like a sentence left in the throat.
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