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b for short Feb 2016
“It,” not so easily defined,
catches and clouds in my throat.
Previously shot down
in a blistering passion, and riddled
with disappointment,
vague answers to important questions,
and the kind of wasted possibility
you’ve seen in a used syringe
abandoned by the park fence.
Although it may seem
wounded and unkempt,
I can feel its remaining life
writhing, wondering, and desolate.
So I let it grow, with no hope of air,
and with my eyes closed, it thrives—
sprouting fresh white plumage,
collecting its strength,
pecking, p-peck, pecking
at the back of my tongue
and ******* up my oxygen.
It’s the taste of blood
that makes me come to
before the riotous flutter of feathers
works its way
to the edge of my lips.
I watch as it lifts off, up, out, and away—
wings spread in a striking spectrum
of well-played deception.
It flies, now, fearlessly—
commandeering its own air,
and I breathe easily
knowing that it won’t die
with me.
© Bitsy Sanders, February 2016
Anna Dulaney Feb 2016
Youre in my head, in my bones, in my soul
I cant stop thinking, you’ve taken my control
Silver bones and gold blood that make me up
You’re the metal that binds me together
My broken copper wings with tarnished feathers
An alchemist turning my lead heart into gold
Youre in my head, in my bones, in my soul
I cant stop thinking, you’ve taken my control.
just threw this together.. i cant get him out of my head
Jo Baez Feb 2016
Buried in crow feathers, the Devils in their eyes & he fed me
misanthropy.
I'm disconnected, as I stare into the blood scarlet sky.
Filled with black splatter paint brushed birds.
One by one dove down to peck at my flesh & take a piece of my wings.
One by one dove down to peck at my bones & take a piece of my limbs.
Wings made of corroding, sweet  memories, keep growing back out of misery to feed reality.
Rose Davis Jan 2016
I call to you in whispers
when I flick off the lights
and turn my blankets into a cocoon.
Maybe you’ll hear me one day.
If not, at least I can say that I wanted to find you
and my hands that brush my lips to pull my blanket towards my face
will tell you the same story –
a night does not go by that I don’t whisper to you.
The shadows expect it of me these days;
they wait to hear me call to you
and artfully etch my words with inkless golden feathers
onto my bedroom walls.
yuki Dec 2015
crowd of tiny black birds
one of them prettier than the rest
feathers shimmering golden
but when his brothers and sisters fly
it remains below
because you can't fly with wings made of gold
Cade Sep 2015
Wings,
soft, feathery, downy,
wings,
made for flight,
Forged for a fight,
wings,
scarred, ******, broken,
Wings,
---
Wingtips press against the soil,
Earthen, Brown,
the power of the Earth,
shared to me,
Ritual, complete,
I feel it all,
rich power,
---
Graceful wingtips,
trailing crimson,
across innocent marble floors,
oh how imbued with guilt,
they drag,
Jesica Dittemore Aug 2015
Feathers Falling
Kissing Water
Krickets chirping
All asunder
Quiet peace
Silent  bliss
Never-ending perfect kiss
I fall into
Those eyes so blue
An ocean waiting
For me to be consumed
With feelings of passion
Fiery passion.
Wings silent
Whoosh through air
Keeping us high
Up in air
Hold me tight
Don’t let go
Never-ending starry show
This is bliss
This perfect night
Those eyes so blue
I fall in love
Every look every touch
Feathers falling
Kissing water.
Echoes Of A Mind Aug 2015
Some dance on flowers
Some dance on clouds
Some dance on feathers
While I dance on broken glass.
Written on phone
Ix Ryley Jan 2015
I would have been anybody's angel;
I didn't mind the love.
The halo in the shimmering lights as I spin, dances behind
As the wings, the feathered dreams, tower on the other side.
It's greener, you know.
It's greener and darker.
And here, staggering along the pit between goodness and liberty,
I have to ask, "What good am I, anyway?"
I'm no good on my own,
So I could be anybody's angel.
Poetic T Jun 2015
one is for sorrow
urban tainted are feathers
tattooed black and white
Magpies are beautiful, but the tales are still sung of urban thoughts
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