existence101 | What is forbidden utterly

1836

The boy knows nothing, I know even less. I know the sway of his hair and the greenery in his irises, I know how strong his arm is, when he puts down doe and stag. I know the strength of the distance he puts between us, when I finally dare to come close to his chair and he still does not recognise my efforts, even less my existence. He has heard of my kind, but I am air to him, perhaps the first leaves of the birch, the last rowan berries to feed a robin, a starling or my sisters in whom he only faintly believes. As such, his faith in me must be even fainter. I am a winged thing like them. Let me exist in your dreams, at least, I whisper right next to his ear, causing him only to stand up, move through my left arm, the adjoining shoulder, the side of neck. Is this what we call a butterfly kiss, I wonder, I want, I wilt a little, my wings fall. Could you not be a winged thing, too?