Friday, September 20, 2013

Pattern

You are every wounded bird
I have ever loved.

Your heart is your broken wing,
and I am tactile, so I must touch.

Your song is your broken heart,
and I can hear you, so I must sing.

Your flight is my destiny,
and we fall in, formed. It's inevitable. 

1 comment:

  1. I could share this with too many. ...haunting and true.

    ReplyDelete