Weathered wings doing wretched things
On my life, wringing everything.
I hear him breathe, as a disease,
I'm not he—no—I believe
It's a fearful illusion.
We were heading to the ceiling
The scream seized this body
In fury of confusion.
These toes curled,
Lifting the power in our world
To block the union.
I've never experienced such force—
She said I was laughing, last night,
Comments about this poem (Wretched Wings by Edwin Cordero )
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