The day you gave me my first pair of wings,

I forgot to tell you how much I loved you.

My head was too far above my neck to listen to the beating in my chest.

It was louder than any common sense you’ve ever told me.

Maybe that’s the reason I lose my fingerprints on a daily basis.

They are scorched by the lightning storm I’ve brewed in my own sanity.

You live there.

Somewhere deep within my bones there is a rhythm playing your voice.

They repeat the bedtime stories you once told me.

The morals stuck in between those lines wrap themselves around my wrist the same way your arms wrap around my waist.

There is happiness here.

You can find it in the binding of my last book of poetry.  

The curve of my spine circles around the breath of our last conversation.

They always end with a promise to be together again soon.

I’ll see you soon.