Angel wings;

all that i have left
is black and white photo negatives
of you and your angel wings
even then,
black-and-white silent movies
are still worthy of the silver screen

we wore our special angel gear that day
(sweatshirt and ripped jeans, you told me
are what modern angels wear)
poised for flight,
determination caught in mid glare by the camera.
(electric smiles on static surfaces
just wasn't you, you gave it like it was)

i remember
wantingwantingwanting
those wings on my back as i
watched you soar,
your hands by your side
(it didn't make sense to
spread your hands out when you
had wings to fly)

you told me
that everything would be okay if i
spread my wings and flew
(i was too young to understand
the concept of gravity)
besides, my non-exsistant
wings were too
wet and inexperienced
to soar the way you did.

you promised
you would teach me how,
when they were dry.

it was raining
the day you went away
and bringing it all with
you; (back then, you and your wings
felt like everything, to me)
leaving me wet and
wingless;
e m p t y inside

now,
my wings have dried but
they are still as
inexperienced as before.
because,
im still waiting for you to
teach me how to fly.