Left
Listless and abandoned,
little bird watches from its window.
awaiting a time soon to come, holding its tongue in silence.
It lives a life hither to wisps in the wind
birds bite through solid glass
leaving a crack in their wake
shattering between branching paths
not a breadcrumb to their name.
Slumber, lies its dreams and pain
giving only when ginger lemons and tufts of cotton leave hints of bitterness in its bevel
Something dances in darkness,
the ever-ending void watching as it tickles the tips of my fingers
the art of gentle yells letting sound through memory.
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