i hear your waltz, dear bird.

the soliloquy,

the melodies that pull at the strings holding what’s left
of my heart evermore.

i listen, to the shuffle of your ruffled feathers,
your light feet
dance to the creak of hardwood.

a sonical prison.
as this intrepid cell guard is
fueled by my schizophrenia,

and van gogh like delusions.

none of grandeur.

so here are my ears, one sliced from reality,
the other searching for its vibrations.

each majestic, and just as much
consequentially miserable, piano strike
marks a new set of steps for you.

and although i no longer feel,
nor see, i still hear exactly how you carry yourself.

and from that i draw insane conclusions.
from there, upon just listening,
i can imagine what your ****** expressions are like,
and from your laugh as you dwindle around this penitentiary
like a loose branch amongst gusts of wind

i can tell you’re free.

free to fly. free to feast.
free to find a new mate.
free to watch the world burn
from a bird's eye view.

just as we used to do.

free at last, most importantly from us,
more specifically from me.

and although i no longer

feel, nor see.

i still hear exactly how happy you are.

and that isn’t the most heart shattering aspect of our ordeal,

or should i say, my ordeal, to live with, alone.

because the part that really allows me to carefully and diligently pluck single strands of hair from my head as if i could somehow string out the memory of you out from my infinite depths,

is the fact that i can hear, clear as day,

another bird’s chirp,
another bird’s laugh,

another set of feet, on this waltz you’re on.

and when i say heart shattering,

i hope you hear it break, as the sounds of it
reverbs across this room’s vast loneliness.

oh, where are my van gohg like delusions now?

i’ll continue my search, since now i fully know that

you’re just gone. with the wind.

fly, my dear. and leave me, here.

to die amongst your waltz.

-melancholicreator

After he died
Without warning,
I planted a tree
Announcing
Just as suddenly
The Serviceberry
To the others
In the garden
Each bud of a branch
  welcomed by the fresh earth
And dormant bulbs yet to burst
The Aspen as role model
Hastily, deeply
she was added
As quickly as he left
In pursuit of
Recouping buoyancy after starving for oxygen.
Consoling under her generous shade
Begging for silence of sufferings and
deep sorrows

Three years have passed
Has it been that long
There they are,
our memories,
in the control room
That cling, stab like a blade
Taking over the clock
A contagion of disorder
That eats away
like acid
Explicitly unwanted  
Clarity of that night
Frozen in time,
like the winter
  it happened.
Time ended without warning
Deaths metronome gave birth.

Uneven disbursement
Over one thousand days
Since
Asking why,
Why?
Why!
Prone and exhausted.
Drowned in tears that forged
A lake of salt
Why then
Do we not float?
What's holding us up?
And another thing,
Where does the wind
Go when its gone?
It dispatches
   without warning
Whirling in circles,
Catching conditions
Why am I
not so
shaken then?


The Serviceberry has yet
To bare fruit in its
Short life to fifty
Holding steady,
Enduring the rooting road
In the pragmatic ground
Surrounded by leaves from seasons
As messengers of compassion, companionship
At the foot of her trunk
An offering
Once again in winter, here we are
Sleeping until the sun
Bleeds more time
Why does three years
Feel so heavy and capricious
As if it were just yesterday


Will the depth of sorrow remain
After she blooms and feeds
The hungry birds,
Over 35 species,
Who love her nectar
Caring for the offspring
Obscure, neglected and hungry
Giving back, keeping the healed
From further storms of
Sudden causes
As he did for his flock
Harbored in what the doctor
Ordered.
Tender
Loving
Care

Will heartache be replaced
By forgiveness?
Like the passing bus
That descends the hill
Into a valley of green hearts
Picking up new passengers
Loving another
Forgetting the importance
Of yesterdays bus ticket that
Flew out the window
Arriving without intention
To its destination
Neutralizing the anger
That came without warning
Glancing out the window
Towards tomorrow
As the birds songs
Are sung