Feathers are soft, fringed plumes that tickle and make you feel good. If used rightly, they arouse sensuality and excite things. They are a (read: the) magic material that can make you fly and achieve all that there is. They are not just pretty to look at but also protect birds from sun, heat and cold.
When a feather sits atop your head, you take it, close your eyes, make a wish and swoosh it away. They bewitch you with their enchantress.
It feels like a dream that will soon falter as I wake up But not like a dream that will come down crashing and crumbling on the ground with a thump But like a dream made of white velvety feathers When I touch them they will tremble and swiftly whoosh in the air It’s better to let the glass break, sting your feet and let the crimson blood flow than get feathers that will engulf you smother you They won’t hurt you so you’d never know that the pain is not unreal Oh no, they won’t hurt you just trap you in their softness It’s brutal but you’d never know it is killing you And all this while, everyone thought feathers were innocent
PS: I apologise to ruin the goodness of feathers for you
The only thing you need to apologise for is writing such a beauty, that I want to read again & again. 🌸🌸