Apr 2014
Every time my feathers catch the wind again
and my wings almost lift me off the ground
Your ice shards dig deep under my rib cage
and again I crumble onto the ground
simmering embers once again, breathless.
In cinders I remain until I can truly forget
only then can I hope to fly again.
and my wings almost lift me off the ground
Your ice shards dig deep under my rib cage
and again I crumble onto the ground
simmering embers once again, breathless.
In cinders I remain until I can truly forget
only then can I hope to fly again.
(my last few poems I've made metaphors comparing myself to a phoenix, and as odd as that is it fits so well and feels so right that I don't care what people think of it.)
