There was a story in the way you held yourself, a tale

for the square-ness of your shoulders and hands hidden in pockets,

that I so wanted to know.

---

But it was the eyes that got me.

Surprised, because I never really noticed

such silly things.

Kindness in such a hard face,

mixed with insecurities and a self esteem low enough

to trip over.

---

So I took you home, took off your jacket,

and saw the dirt-gray wings

hidden under, pressed to a dark shirt that clung onto

skin and bones.

---

And your smile offered only honesty

and a night not spent alone.

---

So you kissed me once,

and though I asked

You wouldn't tell me why God took away your words;

so I kissed you twice

and gave you mine.

- Then you sang me a song

raw and reminiscent of a time you had been loved

and lost.

---

We dozed with the rain,

and I found the perfect pillow

in the crook of your elbows.

It didn't want them,

but that didn't stop you from leaving me

your wings while I was sleeping.

---

You were up and out before dawn,

Black jacket on and pale as ever.

And in the haze of waking moments, I know heard you say thank you,

but I never heard you say goodbye.