Living
*living*
We dont
have a story
So a love song
will never be.
No poems
or portraits,
Only a grey moon
And a salty sea.
In the darkest
corner
of our room
you built
us a home
you made me stay
Made me pray.
Great master
you created
yourself
Out of creation ,
left us with little
Pieces of you
to find
And to colour
them pink
Red and
leathery black.
I traced a bird
from the glum sky,
She caged it,
I sang to it
She painted it red
I fostered it
She stole
all its poems:
I loved ,
She consumed.
Caged bird
Stop singing
Look how
the sun ages
without its yellow
In your black wings
So you have
come to visit,
I rise to greet:
my pen falls,
drying, dying
An uninspired
life starting
with a poem,
ending with
A song
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