she told me once that she had wanted to be free.

she'd play in the fields, come in with dusk

walk barefoot through her cloud

throw paint at the sky

that even though

she was attached to his stable ways

his work in the sewers kept him dark (Tweet This)

the waste of other people's lives

dragged the filth around him

as much as he tried.

she could hose him off

and giggle as he shook the droplets

which she could catch on her fingers

and eat instead of a meal

she was never hungry for real food

because the sun and the moon

the breeze and the shadows

kept her full of the world.

but she would stay by his side


knowing that when it ended

when it was black everywhere

she would hum, sing, flap her fragrant wings

and watch her life below.

and she did.

she saw.

(he climbed to the top of the hill

where she had said she could be the entire world (Tweet This)

and there

he'd shirk off the stink of his daily clothes

the stench of his life

and climb the tree

so he could be close to her.)

Love is not the same for each of us. (Tweet This)

Stay well, stay kind.