Flightless Birds

we argued with our maybes. we stood over the flames. eager to burn. 

in our little dresses. full of little arms and legs. a fragile consent to let the future unravel our stitches. 

empty pockets. heavy with the stones we'd spent. an open invitation to every kind of predator. 

orphaned monsters. deformed by too many scars. tell their stories in sweet aggressions. scratching with their brittle claws. on the doors that we keep locked. 

stilted epiphanies drag their crayons across our skin. weighing us down with all the colors we'll never see. 

patiently. we wait for the world to end. 

curating tomorrow by yesterday's debts. 

touching the surface from below. strangled by hope. 

repeating the lies. until we believe them.