I was young, and the world was at my mercy. I dreamed of all the places I would go, the people I would meet. That all changed into "we" After I met you.
Where would "we" go, who would "we" meet? I was careful around you at first, I had this sneaking feeling that you were a collector.
That you collected memories, dreams and feelings, until you got bored. Then you would move onto the next.
I thought to myself how I will never be able to be close with anyone if I continue to be so suspicious of everyone, so I let you in.
Immediately I was soaring, and you were like a cloud welcoming me to settle down for a while. Soft, warm, you felt like what I imagined a home would feel like.
I didn't notice it at first, just a dull ache in my heart. You began collecting, and by the time I noticed, I couldn't fly anymore. You had taken my freedom, my wings, my precious feathers.
You had taken my time, time I could never get back. You tamed me with kind words, gentle actions, as to not scare me away. You were no cloud, but a pillow stuffed with feathers. The more you took, the fuller you felt.
You were no home, but a cage. You taught me what it was to loose my flight, so I must thank you. Now I know how I have taken my freedom for granted, and I will never let it go again.
After a while they began to grow back, I felt like my old self again more and more. So you can have those feathers, they are nothing but a distant memory of a person you once knew.
Just know no matter how many you collect, you will never be able to fly but I am already soaring far far away.