Photo Challenge #124 and Wordle #257

Ronny Garcia Moron

My wings crack on exhumation,
so deep are the veins in my heart
that I cannot unmask them.

I succumb to the spark of fire
that grows steadily from underneath my thumb.
I have tried so hard to be numb,
slick with sweat I crumble.

I am no chum of yours,
I belong to no one
people irk me
their neat conversations
serve no truth and I am tired of lies,
of luck that implies no exertion.

Fashion me a lock
to which no key exists,
a box of epiphanies
that will not open.

I tear and burn
each layer no thicker than a page.
The clouds thrum
salty with all the promises
they have been made to keep.