• novanogravity 23w

    Here is a toast to the brave birds who are repairing their wings, repairing their hearts, channeling the phoenix and sweeping away the old ashes.. ��������

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    Broken Wings, Hearts, Sparks and Embers

    It is hard to rest with a broken wing
    A broken heart conjures tears that
    Slide down the sides of the body and
    Dampens the thread-stitched seams
    Making it easier to burst through the
    Thickened hurt of these fairytale things
    Someone asked me if love is supposed to hurt
    And I've read the beautides that remind that
    Love is patient and kind and all that jazz
    So I second guess the numbing pain of it
    Maybe it is not love at all
    Maybe when it goes sour and turns to things
    That burst your bubble and slice your wings
    It is not love at all
    It is something else entirely
    It is the wild, live wire of the other that's firing
    It's hard to rest with a broken wing draped
    Across your chest and a broken heart hiding
    In the pillows beneath your neck
    The music sounds like warnings and hauntings
    Even the smoke detector knows to stand close
    It knows that It's hard to sleep when
    there's a menacing ghost
    Dancing happily in the fire among us
    And no alternate nest to fly to in the interim
    So we make ourselves comfortable hurting
    And sometimes call it "symptoms of love" when
    In reality, we are full of sparks and embers
    And without passion we are simply
    Slowly simmering into a burning

    ┬ębyajthewriter