Is it agony or fear or disgust which haunts your face?
What is it that has stripped your mouth of its gums
and stitched to your back bloody, ribbed wings?
Marooned in hallways perfectly black and limitless,
do you sense regret?
Was it you who severed ligaments
that joined happiness to your heart?
Or is it our hearts that pump glass shards through veins,
inner darkness flooding our own hallways?
Is it our eyes that have been stripped of color, varnish,
oil? Are we numb to our own wings? Will our wingbeats
shudder the air around madness and propel us?
Will we ascend to your vacant seat or will we find some brief light
in the golden mouth of your absent horn?
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