Eustacia

By Ori C. Li

Gold dust of the mortal world.
That’s what she is.
She is just everything
I could ever want—beauty, grace,
Warmth, freedom, freedom
To feel. An
Angel.
She shows me her wings and the scriptures
Of memory emblazoned
Onto her skin. She tells me
While she is still here, I should know
I am human. We all need
A little something, and
She’s found herself another mother.
If I am jealous of an angel
Maybe I am a devil.
Something that I do often
Is repeat the same story, over
And over, knowing that
What I do is doomed to fail and it is that reassurance
That keeps me going.
I am a lunatic
And she kept me unwound. But
The wind took her, and like all else,
Will take me too.
I miss her.
I wanted to ask her how to fly.