an apus star

you promised me paradise as you plucked an apus star
from twilight skies and shone it over me -
like spotlights from a center stage.

and i felt myself gravitating towards you,
as your eyes sparkled under winter moonlight
just like you always knew i would.

(i'll give you wings and set you free,
so you'll always be with me.)

so we left tracks in freshly fallen snow,
creating our own path to heaven and back.

but always was not forever -
and even shorter lived than tomorrow.

and your footprints faded with each layer of crystalline
until you're only a memory better left forgotten,
but, darling, i needed you to let me be.

you told me you loved winter and i said i did too,
but my wings were clipped with your poison,
and i had no choice but to let winter go.

and i swore to be more than what you made of me,
but an apus star is just an apus star without you:
a footless bird with broken wings.

apus - the bird of paradise constellation (aka. footless bird)

prompt: i'm starting to regret loving winter.