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It's that last sound on her lips,
that little whisper on that phone call,
the affection and warmth that lingers beyond.

It's just the way she said you were adorable,
as if you were cared for,
for the very first time,
that maybe you thought to yourself,
maybe this is alright,
you didn't think it then,
you couldn't you were speechless,
powerless, weak,
as of yet untested by the vestiges of time,
of the loss of even that connection that line,
you had no idea of how uncomfortable peace could be,
of how ruinous letting your hear love,
could be. You just didn't know. You couldn't

So you sat there, and smiled, and
you couldn't see your face but you know your eyes shined.
In a light that hadn't been seen before,
That you're unsure if it has ever shined since.
You listen to those light piano keys,
on random youtube videos,
and each and every melody takes you back,
and it's just that last little sound on her lips,
just that last little whisper on that phone call,
The affection and warmth that lingers beyond,
When she said,
"I love you."
 Oct 2018 PrttyBrd
Axion Prelude
Withering kiss belittles fate
Sultry, affluent, perfection lost
a damnation of intent
skewed by empty plight

endearing atrophy weaves no ties
cut from the crowd
whispers seeking place in time
Wreaking havoc upon sullen breadth

dreams disguise desire
the facade awakens every day
the ghostly touch of weightless hands
deliverance, mourning truth
each dream ached by sunder of hope
remiss of such light, I become mired

such calmness and good comes of the night
by day, there resides no such kindness by my side
I await, forever..
kindness means nothing to those who seek to gain for only themselves; the rest simply do not exist near me. Such desired gentleness goes unheard. I wish to have ever beheld a heart who seeks me on its own, before i go

my dreams lie to me, as if to convey what I need most would ever exist; mocking my will to go forward by sharing a taste of what seems, by now, will never be real
 Oct 2018 PrttyBrd
Axion Prelude
fate befalls coarse dissonance
heartfelt plight, undoing thralls
stalwart cries beckon home
staunch hope redoubtably prevails
pithy, barren, crass, vile
Morose echoes, tinged denial
bemoaning daunting harrow

withered bridges surmise winter's defeat
water flowing effortlessly beneath
ineptitude solemnly secedes
decaying frost bereaves Sun's kiss
a new day.
 Sep 2018 PrttyBrd
Axion Prelude
I can't stop falling for you, every new moment we share
By that,
Dawning, radiantly
In the dusk of the valleys,
In that place where only, kings and.
Vagabonds, go
In that secret place where,
you and I know,
That secret whisper that
Lush moonlit smile
That smitten meal
With hidden doves aflut
Good god there is none
Yet still, angel,

So where does that leave me,
I wonder, I ponder,
Lost and alone,
Across time, space, and a simple screen,
Across the fragility and powerlessness of the human heart,
The unwieldy empty reach of my dreams,
Those lost
Hidden valleys, oh,
Just the thought of the sight,
Just the temptation of that,
Empty horizon, on the tip of my tongue,
Those beautiful curves, twisted upon every single one

Good god there is none,
But, maybe if there was,
It’d be someone and something like you,
Just a precious little thing,
Just something out of reach,
As Icarus reached out for the sun,
And I only your waxing moon,
Content now and again,
If I dare say it,
To reflect some of your own shine,
Upon those who would wear it,
Just over reach,
Just beyond heaven.
For a misbegotten friend
 Nov 2017 PrttyBrd
limbs extended in surrender
slowly sapping expectation
humbled by the loss of leaves
casted to the fate of winds

moss casually draping down
bunting to the veranda below
naturally setting the stage
a balmy night's curtain call

perfume of coronated lime
headily rising to a salsa beat
the rhythm of a porch swing
rocking vaguely to memories

on a branch the bird alights
free to love and to be loved
conducting energy of promise
awakening roots to the fall
 Sep 2017 PrttyBrd
Sam Temple
Tangled mass of briers
chokes the trailhead leading into
a dark forest with echoing calls;
a ****** ***** wildly and their
chorus fills the valley with song
both frightening and
exhilarating to my blood.
A chill creeps through me
as the mountain stream nearby
has entered my body at the neck
traveled every inch of my vein and artery
before leaving me at the ankle
and rejoining its own meandering body.
Is it the distant buzz of chainsaw
or simply a concert of crickets, each
tiny violin poised and ready to launch
that leaves me holding my breath?   /
 Jul 2017 PrttyBrd
 Jul 2017 PrttyBrd
I find myself
finding myself,
and sometimes I find myself

We talk it all
over for a while

Sometimes resolution
Sometimes revolution

Alone again
Wondering which steps
to follow

It's tough being human
All frailties and all

The fact our days are numbered
kind of  says it all

I told myself
in a short story
at a young age

Not to forget the dream,
The main character
He forgot the dream
And, oh

Sometimes though
when the music
is right
feeling it inside
in a trance
higher and higher
some may even call it

The moment though
it always passes

Sometimes when the mood
is right
it comes on back

Sometimes gotta go
Sometimes gotta stay
Sometimes wounded
Sometimes healing is
on its way
Sometimes in wise mind
trying to figure on out
how to stay.

Sometimes we're
going to find ourselves
finding ourselves
and find ourselves
along the way.
They call it guilt, John.
That's what the voice in the dark of the night,
would always whisper upon me.
But I was deaf, so I would never hear it.

Oh, it's just what they'll all say,
"It's not your fault",
That your brother died,
That you're a broken husk of a man.

Worry not, worry not, fair snakeskin,
fair caterpillar,
surely you, too,
will shed your skin and fly, fly away.

But he doesn't get to fly now does he?
No all he exists is,
as a sad, cold face,
dead, under the refraction of light,
that pool's death gleams.

Hmm, but you enjoy this don't you,
John, the voice said to me.
The tragic backstory, the shameless reason.
For such gleeful ecstasy, surerly,
The small price of the lie called brother,
of innocence, of life,
of something you never really had, something you never really lose,
what an even sacrifice, John, what a fair toll,
in fact how favored are you, to so enjoy,

I won't tell if you won't, she says, whispered. Why always a she and who? It finishes anyways; whether I want it to...

Spencer died,
So I can have,
my whip in hand.
That is my truth.
 Mar 2017 PrttyBrd
 Mar 2017 PrttyBrd
I have loved you still,
When I could no longer turn you into poetry.
I have loved you from afar,
When you needed space to spread your wings and navigate.
I have loved you freely,
Because labeling things usually restrict their growth
I have loved you in silence,
And you still heard every confession I never uttered.

I have loved you, unabashedly,
Let my words rage on,
I have loved you gently,
The way moon sings lullabies to a kid.
I have loved you in hues,
Both crimson and blue,
And so when the winter comes,
And your hands are cold,
I'd still be holding you.

I have loved you when you were a poem,
I have loved you when you were spiteful words thrown away, casually.
I have loved you at your best,
I have loved you when you yourself could not.
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