Angel Feathers

I remember when I first met you. The first week I moved in, sleeping in your bed, waking up to your eyes, sometimes green, sometimes brown, always breathtaking to me. I was always finding little white feathers in that bed. They must have been from the comforter. But when I asked you about them one day, you grinned at me and said "They're from my wings."

I know you were just being silly.

But I believed you.

I still do, in a way.

I wonder when you forgot how to make them work.

I was hoping you could teach me.

But I guess, you were hoping the same thing. So maybe we both let each other down.