Cure.

I whisper little songs to myself when I miss the grasp of someone's arms, or the heavy, warm breath on my neck.

As I tread through all this weight, suddenly turned lighter with the passing of the years. My bed turned a little nest in the forest of my room.

I've got bruises on my legs, from walking in circles in my little jail. Turns and turns, until I no longer understand what is truly moving. 

Curiously, after all this coldness, getting warm again hurts with every little crack of the ice that holds me within. From which no effort was made, with no expected results. Contempt with my little walks within my room.

Upbringing of a little owl that's learning to fly again, within the silver folds of the moon's dress. She's dancing with me now, she's so lit up. Lit up on the stars that stare me down. 

A hand is held, and a wing extended. A hug is felt, and the head rises to feel the wind. Eyes are met, and off goes the leap of faith. And while I lay here writing, waiting for it to come back; my ice is melting. As within your hands you hold all that is true, but never from my point of view, only from what you believe is right. 

All uncertainty. The cure of an escapee. Waiting eager to see, what you, so preciously, hid. And all you are, free as the wind, that pulls me high, will greet the choice of letting me be or fly.

But something about you already hurts me.You feel familiar in all of the worst ways. And I stray by strange affection. I guess that's the mirror held to me, as a distraction.

Oh, but how to forget that the cure to my sadness, and fear, is all held within your fists.

I always remember that you miss me, when I leave my lonely body. I always remember that you want me, when I'm nodding off slowly.

And I still whisper little songs to myself. From the Parachute's album we like so much. And I know what you'll say, "Sing one we know". 

But I'm tired of whispering, and I wish for once, someone would sing with me.

Because you hold the cure. Yes. You hold it, tightly, in your fists. 

The cure to my fear. 

-the owl;