The Voice Issue 32: October 2017 - Page 48

Rare

It's no secret that I keep your wings hidden

under my bed.

I took our lies and shut them away.

Not forgiving you completely,

but always just letting you back in.

Our entwined fingers were enough for me to get by with.

I sold our fights, for silver and gold

just to make the sleepless nights better.

Because when I reach over to the side of the bed

that was never really yours, it is bitter.

My tattoos filled with your promises won't come off no matter how hard

I rub, or scratch.

It seems you have implanted yourself in my skin,

You were always stubborn, I remember.

You took the word love and twisted it and turned it,

until it was just a syllable and it meant nothing compared to

the words that sang through our bodies.

I cut my dreams and left the day,

To just sit wrapped in your arms for an hour.

And I loved you,

I loved you because you were rare.

Because in the end,

it was not you who pulled away,

it was not me who pulled away.

I was falling and the feeling of the singing in my bones,

made them want to break.

In the end it was you who cut off your wings,

so I could have them.

And when I look back to the sacrifices that we made,

and the things that I bought with the silver and gold.

It is nothing compared

to you.

It is no secret that my memories sneak out of my eyes

and roll down my cheeks

when I look at your wings

under my bed.

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