Egress.

Am I your mockingbird?

For I bleed your indigo
arias as you enchant
the universe.

I am dying in this
body. My skin - ashen,
my throat - raw,
my heart - numb.

Yet when I chant
of us, my last grasp
at immortality, the
last chord of winter,
my veins bloom
and your lyrics become
branded on my most
bruised remains.

I echo you, not
just to live, but to
remember who it was
that first gave my soul
wings.