I once had a craving before we knew each others freckles, to kiss your shoulder blades, because I swore you had wings.
If you get beneath my shirt, your fingers will trail the tattered feathers of wings of a demon who fell into the arms of an angel.
Take these broken wings and tell me I'm still beautiful, even when the sky didn't want me.
Please, don't touch them, my wings I mean, I burn at the touch of men with constellations in their spines, bet if I traced them, I'd feel close to God.
Envious of the way the sky held you close, I took every abandoned feather and set fire to my wings.
Hold my hand through the flames, I swear to the stars I'm going insane.
you know what?
Guardian angel my ***, you held the match to my wings and glued the charred black feathers to your spine, ****.
Those were mine.