Green Ink On A Feather

When I write poems about you
I write with ink because
Pencils actually erase themselves if you ignore them for too long
And ballpoint pens sometimes run out
So I sit down with a feather and a jar of green ink because I think feathers can fly to be free and black ink looks sad
I don't write them on paper because paper actually burns itself up if you ignore it for too long
I don't write them on my walls because sometimes when you write on walls, your words get covered by someone else's beautiful masterpieces
I don't write on the backs of my hands because then anyone could see them and you sometimes hate things like that
I write them with a feather and green ink on the soles of my feet because feathers fly free and green is happy and my feet are what i need to walk
When I talk about you I sometimes peel back my skin and open my ribs, but I don't talk to my heart even though I've learned that hearts actually stop beating if you ignore them for too long
I say my words to my spine because it's secret and hidden and its a bone you'll never see
Sometimes that's how I love you
Like a hidden secret that you'll never see
I write with a feather and green ink on the soles of my feet and I speak to my spine because
Feathers fly freely and so do you
Green is happy and so am I
My feet are for walking
My spine is for talking to and I never want to forget you