Soft memories with velveteen plumes and the warm,
beating hearts of hummingbirds flutter around my head.

They weave around each other,
meandering and zooming and dipping
their beaks into the flowering buds of my subconscious
that hold pools of comfort and shame and love and longing.

Filled with the tangy nectars of my mind,
the memories lovingly peck at the caverns in my skull,
the vacuous hollows that stagnate and breathe.

These sweet-humming, gentle things peck at the malleable tissues behind my eyes,
leaving behind bittersweet pricks of nostalgia behind my eyes
that fall through and into my hands.