Graceful sway of her long, elegant fingers,
The hypnotic smile of her sweet face lingers.
Her favorite songs are burned into my brain—
An addiction so strong, it drives me insane.
“That’s not very poetic,” the bird laughs.
“Truths are more often than not chaotic,” I say.
Then the bird takes a leap, and up she goes.
I chase after her, for she has given me hope.
I realize that it’s selfish, that it’s scary,
But it’s also just part of being human.
She’s an artist stuck in a spiral of despair,
The fallen angel sleeps in her lonely hair.
I pray to God, “Please let me be there.”
Even if for a fleeting moment,
Let me be what her bleeding soul requires.
The morning sun takes away my breath;
The freezing cold brings it back.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” the bird flies past me.
“If that’s what it takes to make you laugh again.”
I took refuge in her voice; the warmth kept me safe.
“A step towards nirvana,” I said.
“You don’t sound very convincing,” the bird chuckled.
I’d let you have my heart if that’s what it takes to prove my words.
The sun went down, and the moon hid herself,
But I kept chasing after the unknown bird,
Hoping to get another glimpse, to add her presence to my dreams,
Hoping someday she’ll hold me tight and never let go.
