Innocence

She cuts off her wings,
and gave them to me as a gift,
stormy tears in my cloudy eyes.

Plucked some feathers, 
and used them as napkins. 
Throwing them in the air,
they’re shimmering
like white puddles,
illuminating
on the night sky’s black pavement
and that is how the stars came to be,
that is how the stars came to be.

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