November lovers

He perched upon the pavement as a cold rain drenched his fake angel skin and soaked through into birdcage ribs, freezing his essence of nothing to stop remorse leaden memories mid-throb.

He fell in love with the most beautiful of things like birds in flight and flowers in bloom. Somehow he always managed to forget that feathered wings couldn’t flap forever and all green things eventually turned brown.

He was perfect. But I knew that everything worth loving is flawed and hearts were always more beautiful when broken.

Now he chokes on his cancer rooted in festering regrets and neglected opportunities.  His hollow bones are filled with a cure the corner doctor supplied. He watches blue jays plummet as tall oak trees cry and finally understands why all pretty things must die.