Friday, July 8, 2016

The Crane

fodder for my quill
the disintegration of those beautifully
ill-weaved intentions
oh, how my origami chest simply
caught in the talons of your gaze
i held together, that abrasive
dark bruising kind
of love
squeezed into a box, you knew i could not
unfold from and you stood by, watching,
my change
you said we were the same creatures
needing constantly
i say,
the sky looks a whole lot brighter
without you
i lift
to a panorama, new and unwritten.