I’ve spent the last month mending wings

that tend to fix like dragon claws

braced by a face that spits

the very flames of a dragon’s call

and I convince me that even you need to breathe

no matter how harsh your existence can be

to me

at least while burning down all that we’ve built

you’ve managed to light torches that could’ve never been lit

without your fire

and higher

and higher

and higher

and higher

your angry flames go

until the wings that I mend 

need me no more