“Stormbird”

by Alec Caereth

I should have let her hate me.

Would have been easier that way.

Keep her sharp and spitting fire—

Not soft in the quiet, not staying.

But gods, she stayed in my mind.

Not with sweetness, no—

with silence,

with the tilt of her head

like she saw through every lie I’d ever told

even the ones I hadn’t spoken yet.

She was all storm and defiance.

Didn’t flinch when I burned.

Called me a monster to my face—

and somehow made it sound

like mercy.

I chased her like a fool

through half the kingdom,

thinking I was the hunter.

But she was always the one

with wings.

And when she left—

(I don’t even know if she left

or if I just

drove her to the wind)—

she didn’t slam a door.

Didn’t look back.

Didn’t say goodbye.

Just vanished.

Like smoke off a blade.

Like she was never mine to begin with.

But I still feel her—

a shadow at my shoulder,

a whisper in my ribs,

like a stormbird circling high

waiting for the next thunderclap

to bring her home.

And maybe I deserve the silence.

Maybe she was always meant to get away.

But gods help me—

I still look for her

in every storm.