Caught In The Wires

Falling's not the problem,
When I'm falling I'm free,
It's only when I hit the ground that it causes all the grief.

...

She lived like a bird in his chest. His bones were a cage, his skin was the door, his heart was her food.

"Let me out of here. Let me out. Let me go. It's too small in here. Why won't you let me go? Please let me go."

He felt her wings stuck inside. The feathers made him itchy. He sensed her eyes that couldn't see all around, only straight-ahead and colourblind, the beak she thought was ugly, how it made her sad.

"Please, let me out of here. I want to go I just don't know how. You don't want me here, either. I can tell. Can you hear me?"

He heard her all day. He tried to silence her, to convince himself that the singing he heard wasn't hers but the birds outside his window, to only listen when he really had to, to ignore what he could.

"Can you hear me? Can you hear me? Tell me that you can hear me. Can you hear me?"

She always broke through.

"Stop," he said finally, so loud that even the North Pole could hear.

"Why?"

"You're giving me heartburn."