TheFeatheredSleep – Night bird sings
Only anger
where there should be love
until we let it go
become nothing but empty
as we were before
ever finding
fickle road to emotion
all its vanity and its glory
the good and the not so
and in between, days of roses
turning their thorns into pricks of
passion and belonging
for I surely
have never dwelt in another place so deeply
as that space of you
nothing left after the hurricane
all memory fled and closed
like a cuckoo clock without bird
a hollow tree absent of owl
the indigo night and no
stars
lighting our way back
now, we can only go forward
stumbling blindly
a snowstorm, desert, running out
of reasons to put
one step in front of next
yet as humans we have this penchant
for survival at any cost
it is not always a pretty thing
sometimes our hair is gnarled
our very…
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