i'm holding you
cupped in fragile hands,
a frail little bird
in frail little fingers.
i can never hold too tightly,
because my grip might not
be strong enough
and even if i could
little bird bones
are tender little things.
and it doesn't make sense
because i hate birds so much
but i love you more
than words could ever say.
and then i think of that time
when i was a little girl
and that baby bird sat on my deck
and it didn't chirp
because it was dead
so i didn't know it was there,
and i stepped on it's tender
featherless wings
and it crunched under my foot.
and viscera spilled out
in reds
and blues
and yellow
and i cried
and cried
and cried.
and even though it was dead
inside already,
i was so afraid i would
be the one to hurt it again.
and it's kinda like that.
so excuse me if
i hold you too tight some days.
and excuse me if
sometimes my fingers are too loose.
i have my reasons,
they're there.
please, just please
sing loud enough to let me know
that you're still alive,
even if it's only a little bit.
and i'm so, so sorry
if i ever crush you.
i never meant to.