The Truth About Wings

July 10, 2010
The day you took my wings was the day I forgot how to fly
Silly, isn't it?
I forgot who I was
Just because of some stupid wings

But they weren't just wings
Every strand of cells that threaded into my backbone held my thoughts and my dreams

The day you gave me my wings was the day you called me your angel
Each person becomes somebody's angel at least once in their life
{It's a proven fact}

And in that instance, their spine starts to tingle
The bone constructs more bone, the muscle constructs more muscle
Pulling, stretching, forming
Until finally your newly assembled skeletal muscles and bones break through the skin
{Don't worry, it doesn't hurt—it only tickles}
At that moment all your memories, thoughts, and dreams shape themselves into feathers
After it's all over, you have a brand new pair of wings

Though you can't see them
{The colors of the feathers are stunning}
Shades of reds, oranges, purples, blues, and yellows
Cover every inch of your angel wings

You may often find a stray feather lying about
Drained of the beautiful colors it once had, left instead gray or brown
Most people conclude that a poor bird just happened to lose it
They never suspect it came from a pair of angel wings {Maybe even their own}
Because sometimes people misplace one of their memories or dreams
And a feather falls unnoticed, powerlessly carried off in the wind

Every day I lost pieces of myself
And you didn't bother to put me back together
The feathers that held my dreams whisked away in the breeze
Until my wings became naked skeletal bones and muscles

The day you took my wings was the day I forgot how to fly

And I'm still falling…

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