They Are All Blue Cars Poem by Brian Sonberg

In her mind she is an angel
She sits by mirrors
Paints herself a ghost
Breathes a sigh
Cold and visible
And jumps

No one sees my wings
But me
She'd said
And I will be free
My face scratched from
Memories

Wing clipped
She spirals out of control
Bleary-eyed
She soars for the sun
Not for majesty
Nor for power
But just to feel it burn
Fire to blot out the cold

Aside, I am tormented
Bravery and stupidity
Taken to the streets
Wheels of rubber on endless road
Away from here

Gold star silhouette
Former innocence
Pulled away
Left in classrooms
Now dim, a memory

Branch me off
Sell my plight
To more deserving foes
Call them friends
With sharpened blades
And impeccable aim

Will the scent remain
On something so ordinary
Made extraordinary by skin
In the end, I just miss her