"Featherless"- A Poem

 (source)

Well, Emily was wrong 

Hope turned out to be featherless

The darling girl’s corset must

Have been too tight

And caught the better of her

For I am still too alone

For my own good and

Deserve more than some

Delicate, fragile feathers.

I deserve something able to

Withstand the weight of endless storms,

And even an apocalypse for that matter

There’s got to be some concrete 

In the equation somewhere

In order for things to function 

To the likes of my bulletproof heart.

"Bird Whisperer"- A Poem

 (source)

Bird whisperer, bird whisperer,

Oh, can’t you see?

You’re chasing tiredly after

A thing that can’t be.

They flutter softly away

Into the pale blue sky

As you watch them leave,

You wonder why

Why they don’t stay

Stay near the light

Instead they hide away,

In the black haunting night.

Bird whisperer, bird whisperer,

Oh, can’t you see?

Instead of wishing for something,

Just let it be.

"The Little Birds"- A Poem

 (source)

There is a small, clean incision,

Of a circle right above my heart.

 And sometimes when I’m drifting in and out of dreams,

Day or night,

Passion drips from it.

Little fluttery birds come,

And collect the magic elixir.

They say grace,

Then scramble out of my window,

 To preserve the succulent nectar.

Branches of trees sway in anticipation,

And the sun peeks over to see what the fuss is about.

The winged creatures stretch their feathers

With hope of a new day.

My passion is stored in little bottles,

Hidden in the shadow-filled spaces of their trees.

And every night the birds come back,

To say hello.

I share with them a little part of me,

To keep and treasure,

Since no one else seems to understand as well as they do.