sometimes I listen to my old favorite songs and I think
of how those words don’t echo in my heart anymore
how the chains we shared have formed my
feathered wings,
and now I breathe, I breathe the salt air
not where we started, but where I begin

for once, I have known peace
and it has known me.

in my dreams, I fall upon the altar
time and time again, the dagger
piercing my heart, for you to witness me

tapestries woven of the stars
fading into our dappled sunrise
there, your wings carry me softly—
to be my dove, or my icarus?

is it the golden threads of fate
or your puppet strings on my hand?

I find myself looking back
holiday lights blurring,
fading into falling stars