a murmuration

enough said.

there is no need to hold my hands in yours, —
they don’t radiate any heat anymore;
and love of your fingers has leaked to the soil
while love of your heart denied the toil.

enough said.

time to reattach the wings.
the attic of your memories is full of eggshells
and dry feces,
nevertheless the nest was always empty.

enough said.

our words have turned into the countless birds.
countless birds into the chaotic flocks.
flocks, — heading North.
they don’t care about those who have fallen asleep.

I’m not your fire-bird,
not even a singing canary,
you’re not my golden cage,
not any longer.

time to reattach the wings.
the Big Flood is coming.

enough said.

2 thoughts on “a murmuration

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