Tomorrow I will

Tomorrow a yawn will escape me

as I let go of my pillow and sit up,

stretching my arms and my wings,

laughing at how messy I must look.

I will pull my hair tie out and shake my head,

grinning as the gold that filters through the window

filters through my hair, hugging each strand tightly

and wishing me the best of the luck.

I will readjust my halo, tapping on the band lightly

so it stays at the right angle, and push

the red horns down, covering them with

my hair, my golden-kissed hair,

my favourite accomplice.

 

Tomorrow I will walk to the mirror and look into the eyes

of the girl looking into mine. I will admire

the beautiful wings spread out behind her,

majestic and glorious and feathery, and ignore

how they are slightly charred at the edges.

When the hot water runs down my body

I will sigh in contentment, loving the feel of the

heat relaxing my muscles. Maybe I will love it

a little too much, I will quickly shut it off before it

gets me too flustered—before the heat

consumes me whole. My halo will flicker and I

will tap on it again, making sure it stays lit, stays glowing.

 

Tomorrow I will pull the white robe over my

shoulders and do a little spin, I will do a little

funny dance, and I will laugh at the way

the silk feels, all comfortable and soft

and safe. I might wish it were leather instead,

tight black leather grinding furiously against

my skin. My halo will flicker again, and I

will stop to adjust it. Just three

little spanks – three little taps – against the gold

band, make sure the dull goes away, disappears.

But maybe tomorrow it won’t.

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