You made me the sweetest bird of paper
Written on it were lovely memories
Of times when you and I didn't feel so alone
We mistook that time for happiness,
For love.
I took it and as it nestled into my palms,
palms which had felt every bit of your skin
As I thought of hot nights and cool lies,
And the moment you realize
Love had long since become a nighttime activity,
The bird caught on fire in my hands
But didn't burn my red palms
(we didn't know it was a phoenix)