i followed you blindly
down this path they call love,
leaving myself behind
without a bread crumb in sight.

i left her standing there,
next to the wilting rose bush,
powered by the endless possibilities
of life before you.

the house in which you built for me
looked soft and inviting,
adorned with heart shaped pillows
made from hand plucked feathers.

the home in which you built for me
looked soft and inviting.

soft and inviting,
until i realised.

that the feathers in which i laid upon,
were my own.

and now
i am without

wings to fly.