Yours Truly [h.s.]

epilogue

The timing wasn't right, but we were blind. Blind and in love and living like we were indestructible. Because we thought we were. Because we were supposed to be. But we are nothing more than feathers and fire. One giant catalyst, destined to burn bright and loud before descending into darkness.

Maybe the cards were never in our favor, but I would have bet on them anyway.

We loved so hard, so passionately, so perfectly, until one day we didn't. You fit into my body like a puzzle piece, your form melting over mine and seeping into the cracks of one another. Your hand, intertwined with mine, felt more natural than my own. Until it didn't. We could kiss the wounds away, fuck the fights away, cry the fears away. Until we couldn't.

Migration starts in the fall and ends in the spring. Consistent. Predictable. A circular pattern, neverending. Until one day, it isn't. Until the bird hurts its wing. Until the flock leaves the sick. Until, one day, we just don't return home.

My migration was supposed to make me grow; bring me knowledge and confidence and help me bloom into your favorite budding flower. I must have outgrown my pot.

I lost my navigation. I forgot which way was north and I couldn't find my way home. The flock left me, floundering and alone, desperate to return to you, but unsure of how to get there.

If I could take flight...? I'd come home.

I am mourning Dove. Mourning the love we had; mourning the love we still have. Grieving the loss of your stability, your hunger, your light, you. Screaming in anger and agony over the death of us, slipping out of my fingers like grains of sand. Begging whatever holy bodies I can think of for another chance to turn things around - to hide the pieces of myself that I uncovered in Florida. Crying an oceans' worth of tears hoping to feel something other than the emptiness in the pit of my chest. Waiting for acceptance.

I'm setting you free, Harry. Because I accept we are no longer in the clouds, but crashing brutally to the ground. You were mine for so long that I don't know what it means to be something other than yours.

Cruel vulture. Pluming peacock. Harry, I don't know if I will ever fly again without your wind underneath my wings. I know I need to let you go. Release you from my cage.

No...because you're already free. You've been free. You belong to the sky. Flying towards the sunlight because we're drawn to the things that resemble us.

You're already free. It's time to free myself. Release myself from your cage.

Because I belong to the sky, too. Because I belong to the birds.

I love you, Harry. I think I will always love you. I know I'll always see you in the birds; in the sky; in the warm embrace of the sun. Your song will always compliment mine, but I can't stay in this cage, using my broken wing as an excuse to stay on the ground.

Because I deserve the chance to fly, too.

Yours Truly,
Dove