Wings

The white light pulled me in from the dark. It’s a flat surface, humming so low but burning so warm and bright. I do not know what dance is, but I think it’s this, gliding along the surface of happiness, tapping my feet upon brimming satisfaction. I feel love, even if from a cold and unloving world. I feel a place. And then a finger hits me, not even a whole hand. I feel my wings tear off and burn against the screen. And then I can’t feel them anymore. I’m falling.

In fleeting moments of lucidity and waning flashes of sight, I look up from the dark crack I’ve fallen into. I see the rays of light shooting out just over me, but not down on me. If I could, I would crawl up to it. But I can’t. I’m on my back, bleeding out. And it’s over, before I even know it’s happened.

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