“I miss you,” she said.
The words departed her lips,
hovered in the air —
chilled by the emptiness of our hearts.
I watched them
twitched, fluttered, and deflated.
Falling onto the table,
like dead birds.
Broken wings shot by old guns,
empty words strung together —
I read between the lines,
and heard the unspoken —
“The old you.”

There's a bird at your window.
Chest cloaked in a lush boastful yellow.
Timid dust brown feathered head,
with flurries of white laced around its neck.
There's a bird at your window.
Singing the echoes of blissful memories,
majestic tones of innocence.
There's a bird at your window.
Eyes filled to the top with intuition,
feathers fluttering with intent,
not a worry in the world.
There's a bird at your window.
Wondering if it knows,
knows what world we live in today,
or if it even cares.
There's a bird at your window.

it starts with you
sitting underneath the sun at dusk
the only noise you can focus on
is your languid breathing
while the scent of the hot wind
curls into your nostrils
in wicked streams

your slow and steady breaths
gives the beat for the rest of nature to imitate
her winds join in
offering a sweet and watery whisper
blending her breaths and your breaths in an airy duet
laying down the foundation for
the soft pitter-patter
of her plants and animals

her mischievous wind
knocks against the willow's branches
swinging her leaves.
their hollow ringing
is rhythmic and relentless

and then you hear it
the orchestral arrangement
that mother nature
has arranged for you
you become the conductor
of your movement
with your deliberate, languid winds

and when you take a pause in your rhythmic breaths
to savor the sweet scent of summer
as if it could be stamped on your mind
the kestrel's song plunges
into the orchestra
the shrill, sharp notes form a soloist in a flurry of feathers and beaks
completing the orchestra

as the moon rises, opening her pale eyes
as she sways to the rhythm of Earth's song

In a forgotten tongue,
Beseech in evermore valiant:
Enriched in a cradle of marigold,
and the mist of imperfections.
Glitter thy night of wisdom,
And shower of repentance glorified.

Hush, startling hiss-***,
Hurry, yet do not arise:
I shall not be waiting.
Serpent tongue, holds hostage,
And withering, in crescent omniscient,
Bury more than twilight dies.

Speak, gentle summer wind:
It’s touches of despair,
Sink with constellation knees,
And vow to love
As if the moon loved the sun.
Pretty fallen star, the star that holds heaven
Can rest in the dew sunken morning,
With a lopsided smile:
And let be, be.

Oh flightless seabird,
I think you are lovely.
Mouth unfed,
feathers untethered.
Sitting pretty on the creek,
friends and families tasting the blue.
No wind under your feet,
not yet.

They think fondly of you,
seabird.
That’s a choice they’re allowed to make.
The higher they fly, the further away you become.
The weakest love you,
pity turns to self love.
At least they can fly,
at least they’re not alone.

You know better,
my seabird.
I saw you,
and so I knew you.
Easy.
It is you and you alone who grins at lilac kisses,
melts the silver sparks.
Sour grass midnight and
rusted dawns alike agree that you see,
therefore you are.

Flightless seabird,
We’re looking back with glass eyes.
You are here,
and you are loved.

You are not alone.

all my blackbirds sing for me
and all my friends arrived
roses bloom above my head
a fine place to reside

lacrimal gush under vails will remedy
promises always lie
pain will tell the journey
trenched the soil to reach the sky

all my blackbirds stopped to sing
for they are no more
all my friends left the same
and all the roses wilt in dirt

I've been reckoned as a coward
they will never see what I saw
and all my songs will stay unsung
and all my songs will stay unsung

When i'm angry,
I cried like hungry bird.
🐦
when i'm hungry,
My stomach rats cried like hungry bird.
🐦🐦
My hungry bird has a relationship with love,
Where no one can live without anyone.
🐦🐦🐦
So we cried loudly,
loudness is filled with  so much joy.
🐦🐦🐦