There are bluebirds flying all around
Inside my head
And I am reminded that tomorrow,
I may not hold your hand again
and I may never feel your teeth sink
Into my skin, again
                                      and wasn't that
                                   supposed to be
                              a good thing?
I'm left cleaning up the scraps,
the mess we leave behind
Like it's my responsibility
to carry your heartbreak, too.
                                         wasn't it
                                   supposed to be good
                              when I was with you?
I read somewhere
                       This is where you fire your musket,
              and this is where you fall and die
but I've fired my musket-heart
and I haven't fallen and I'm still dying
for you to look me in the eye
Like you still mean it;
Like there isn't some line in the sand
you have drawn arbitrarily
to measure what has been inside my heart
When you never cared to ask.
Love, those bluebirds are making it hard to see
through all their Pulsing wings,
But in their eclipse,
I'm finding a ring of light.