A piece of Prose as yet untitled.

by Beth - Scorpio

Gossamer perched daintily on the edge of the lily, she was careful not to slip along the flowers powerful sex. Her talons stabbed shallowly into the petal flesh, not too deep so as to make the lily cry out in pain, but far enough so she would not topple. 

She wanted to admire her beautiful wings. They had sprouted overnight, or so it seemed. The reality was they had been there all along, lying limply against the curve of her spine, not exactly broken, not exactly unknown, simply there like skin. She couldn’t remember the precise moment she had folded them against her back, nor could she recall the moment that she ceased to fly. 

She knew she must have soared to dizzying heights once upon a time, there was still a small piece of cloud stuck dry and hard against the tip of her feathers. It looked a little like a frozen spiders web, hard, brittle and sinewy, which is exactly what spiders webs look like frozen. 

She reached a delicate hand behind her shoulder and gently pulled the old piece of cloud away from her wing. It was cold to the touch and she cried out a little with surprise. She remembered how clouds smell like rain. She gently shook her wings, reacquainting herself with their movements. They felt a little stiff at first, as though they were starched and moulded to the curve of her back. It felt good to open them, like taking a deep breath after having held your breath for seven years. 

She marvelled at how beautiful these wings of hers were. How could she have forgotten them? How could she have folded them up and not fly as she was intended to? What on earth could make her forget who she was? 

And as she looked down from her lily, she saw him. An ache echoed deep inside her heart, and she remembered. He was afraid of heights
Birth sign: Scorpio
Date created: 2005-08-06 21:17:32
Last updated: 2021-03-03 14:46:51
Poem ID: 70855

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