January 1, 2018

Nighthawks flap and glide through invisible stars—
Like that person who brushed past your shoulder today and walked away,
Becoming just another missed opportunity,
Just as you started to feel the familiarity behind that face
As its features faded from memory,
Dissolving into the air like the thick clouds of cigarette smoke suffocating you.
A feather floats down from barren skies to your pillow;
You pick it up and run your crooked fingers over its shaft,
Silently counting every volatile friendship
And every time a falcon swooped down and carried you to the clouds,
Only to let you fall and leave your heart to be pecked out by vultures.
Vultures—a constant reminder of how society kills too many mockingbirds
By luring them in with a prettier nest.
You turn around to see a nighthawk bravely staring into your eyes,
Not knowing the demons that lie behind the doors to your soul.
It realizes its deadly mistake and proceeds to fly away,
Its wings flapping sickeningly sweet thoughts in your direction,
Washing over you like chloroform,
Somniferous air cleansing your memory of these plaguing thoughts.

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