the bird flies on the
horizon,
trailing behind you.
you turned your face once,
or was it twice?
it did not falter,
losing some feathers along
the way.
you knew it was in pain,
as you turned around one
last time.
and then it stopped
a sad look cast upon its
face,
signaling the end of the
chasing game.
###
###
the bird flies again on
the horizon
with a wounded heart that
it knew will never heal.
it flies and it falls,
it now knows how to love
in vain.
No comments:
Post a Comment