your heart was a sky
for my yellow bird
there was room for all the feathers I've collected over the years
each one soft and significant
but one bright morning
you told me you had no longer room for them
an old shoe box under my bed
now is where my bird sleeps
I no longer let him out and those fallen feathers
are now filling this tiny room
I am covered in yellow feathers and songs
PECKING at my heart
could feel it flapping it's wings against my box--
but when the silence came
and I opened that box
my bird was featherless, motionless, and getting wet.