Self Conscious

I've already felt that my wings have been cut, or removed altogether. Drawing on my body to replace what I could never earn by merit. These colored black. Having once a seat in front of my Father, doing His biding, never perfectly. Close in a sense of emotional and physical. Its been long since I've allowed myself to return to any corner of that room, if only to catch a glimpse of Him. As if I could sneek into His chambers, as I once did as a child. Crawling into bed with Him, to experience His heartbeat and heavenly warmth...unnoticed.
I replay, re-think and act out the memory with my hands, a dreamy pantomime of history lost long ago. On my back is this one black wing and on my chest are the weights it must bear, as penence for losing the rights of a son...I try so hard to fly back to the place that is still deadeningly familiar. But availing only temporary height from flutters, no more worth than an untied shoelace length to the floor... My wing is strong, but not paired. And I still see kindness shown to me. Not by those that are His, but those of secular persuasion...why? Why do I get spoiled and blessed by these? Is it some chemistry built from knowing the same place? Having once been a part of the inner circle? Maybe a single black wing rests on their back. As is their kindness, to me, a penence for their sins. I share a multitude of covering on top of their version of Love- which would explain the limited height I can reach, or not. She was my last chance at being 'good'. I told her i needed her, she denied the fact. Never seeing the broken man on the inside. Never knowing her intimate Love was nursing my spirit back to life and higher. I have not begun to unwrap this sweet-flavored and freshly bled wine.
(TBC)