a maybe song, or maybe just word vomit
Rosie cheeked, the dying light
Has dipped his head down for the night
All ransomed, heavy lidded eyes
Worth every heartbreak, guise and lies
I pack my thoughts and tie them down
Sew them in his muss-curled crown
The face, a hidden reprimand
My lungs all folded in his hand
My beak is crushed, a harnessed thing
and bones are broken in my wing
I beat the heart, the someday death
And kiss the hand that holds my breath
