I love you but could these wings fly?
Freshly plucked, flesh dry and petrified
The sky is burnt marshmallow
And the southerly blows hard against the swallows
Fighting stance looks oddly
Like a mating dance
Less than whole
Arms are limp
Strategic folds of brain
I crane my neck to dodge
The oncoming thesauraus
Build distance from hyperventalism
Avoiding romantic vandalism
Light a candle for love handles
Gripped too tight.