Since You’re Supposed to be My Heart
If you want,
I could become a bird.
See, I’d sprout the wings you’ve so vied for and
cross the horizon and fly somewhere stellar and
give you stories for your stories when I got back.
But no, right?
Because then I’d be able to leave,
come and go as I please,
and a thing you can’t clasp isn’t a thing
you know how to appreciate.
So instead I’ll unfurl
a tail instead of feathers,
and plunge deep into the sea.
Transform!, you say,
yet you seek it only out of me.
