To The Winged Boy I Once Knew

I’ll sing you a lullaby from the depths of the sea

where your body lies next to me,

but your feathered wax wings stay afloat on the waves

shrivelling like sun dried tomatoes under the sun’s watchful gaze,

bleaching my skin like a tattoo kiss,

it was never supposed to end like this.

the poor boy tried to grow up and out of his little, leather shoes

and take up the mantle, be a man!

For it was all a part of his father’s master plan,

but how could a little boy be so bold

when he’s still afraid of the dark and all it holds?

It was never supposed to end like this.

the nightlight by his bed was the only thing warding off his father’s dread,

of his voice booming across the halls,

out through the shattered windows,

and lurking in the walls

of his overgrown, evergreen workshop

where the bogeyman lives.

It was never supposed to end like this.

you’re not the first to be tied to the chains of a father’s dream,

never to be heard of, never to be seen,

sinking in a bottomless ocean,

your heartbeat slowing to a fractured motion,

your lungs full of ash and smoke,

your family, your friends – strangers in innocent bliss,

all asking: how did you cope?

Maybe it was supposed to end like this.

now, I’ll sing you a lullaby from the depths of the sea,

but while your body lies next to me,

everything is changing.

The seasons turn,

the apples ripen,

but what doesn’t change is the

sweet, innocent smile you are fighting

between the stardust tears melting into the sand

and your father’s hammer gripped in your hand.

it was always supposed to end like this.

with one last breath,

and one last tear to shed,

you become weightless instead

and the current carries you away

to the land of the stars

where your story ends, but your soul lives on

through wings made of steel,

and the ocean never stops singing

under the sun’s watchful gaze.

You can rest now. the stars will keep you company.