The Boy with Broken Wings

Oh is that sirens I hear or is it the Weekly Challenge?

The lights were strobing brilliant colors, an adult version of a merry-go-round, flashes of green, red, and blue. The bass line of the song was vibrating my sternum and altering the regularity in which blood was palpitating in my veins. The intensity burning in the lead singer’s eyes, his face paint highlighted his jaw structure and his hair was slicked back and glinted in the light. I needed to know more. Their set went by beautifully and ingrained lyrics in my head. I waited until they left the stage before I rushed him; in fact I waited back until everyone else had finished raving about their performance. Soon the stage was getting set up for the other bands to play and Demonic Sonogram had packed up their gear. I strode up with more confidence then I felt. 

“Follow me!” I shouted into his ear over the increasing volume in the small smoky room.

I beckoned him with my eyes and I made my way to the door. I looked deep into his warm benevolent eyes and knew there were secrets hidden right beneath the surface.

“So the show was amazing, I’m sure you know that, but when I look into your eyes all I see is this hidden sadness. What is there hiding in those pools of chestnut?” I whispered as to not disturb the peace of the outdoors or at least not any more than the concert would.

He looked tentatively toward me, unsure whether or not to take the bait. He slowly opened his mouth and came memories as hazy as the smoke that covered the bar area.

“We broke up over two years ago and as irrational as it is, I am scared of her coming back. Scared of having to explain why I am in a committed relationship without her. I mean, she was…” he trailed off into light tears and my arms held him firmly to my chest. 

In that moment I saw him, the boy with broken wings. I saw all of the hardships meld together under the polluted glow of the stars. He sat there curled in my arms and the skeletal remains of his wings dripped with sorrow and beneath him was a nest of neutral colored feathers that had clearly been painstaking torn off one by one. I held him and sheltered him with my warmth, hoping to share my inner peace.


8 thoughts on “The Boy with Broken Wings

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