I want wings.

Do we ever get a chance to really see another person? Their full humanity? Or is all we ever get our own dreams reflected back to us? A vague form dressed in our hopes and expectations and irrational beliefs. Enraptured by the image of them we've created, the stories we tell ourselves. Do we get nothing more than brief glimpses? Not even when you can feel the weight of their body, the line of their skeleton? Not even when you can taste their scent, when you can see the light in their eyes as they look at you? Is all we ever get an occasional flash of luminescence, a temporary moment of understanding? That is over just as soon it begins?

We all flicker on and off, on and off.
We all want permanence in an impermanent world.

I do not want to fall in love with my own dreams.
I want wings. I want wings. I want wings.