The Birds
There was no apparent reason for my heart to start pounding at 4 am other than the intent to listen to the birds in the garden. I wonder when it's going to stop, the pounding. I would never wish for a bird's singing to stop.
I can't breathe. The lightweight quilt crashes my bones. The thin piece of fabric I wear burns. And my heart aches.
Why am I thinking about her?
It's cold now. The birds stopped singing. And the sun is rising. And I'm sinking into dreams. I can finally sleep.
I can't breathe. The lightweight quilt crashes my bones. The thin piece of fabric I wear burns. And my heart aches.
Why am I thinking about her?
It's cold now. The birds stopped singing. And the sun is rising. And I'm sinking into dreams. I can finally sleep.
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