1:25 am

Steady thrum thrum thrum of my 2nd heartbeat,
Laying on my stomach,
so that my crumpled up paper bird wings
can stretch out and up towards the heavens.

There's a universe in my hands
and a second set of brains rattling around in my skull.
I think about all the things that could have been;
if I had chosen you over the world,
if I had chosen her over myself.

Would it have turned out differently?

Would my wings still be broken, clipped, and destroyed?
Would I still be trapped in a cage
of meat,
bones,
and a brittle human heartbeat?

Would my world be any differently?
Would my desires still be earthly?

Or would they,
reach new heights?

Could it be possible that my desires will reach
that which only the Seraphs could scrape with their fingertips?
The end of each day
I am still made of paper and glass:
a human creature made of fragile porcelain,
held together by strings
and wings that are too heavy to lift me
even an inch off the ground.