Wings

He beckons me forth, a forgotten stranger

An enchanted love, a sordid past

My senses are heightened with forthcoming danger

But I brush them away as if they won't last

My life has changed since the last dose

I no longer use words to forget my sin

And yet it is what I long for most

I reach for the quill and beckon him in

He is my poem, my spirit, my song

A freedom I chained deep within my soul

But chains do rust and before long

I'm bleeding my thoughts onto a virgin scroll

I tried to live without writing ever more

Because critics scoffed at my desperate attempts

And now I realize my poems let me soar

They are my wings, they are why I was sent.