She left without a goodbye.
As though our nest was no longer
comfortable enough for her.
As though from a high perch
she saw something, or someone,
better than me
and flew off.
But life is funny
and often horrific.
They found her among the reeds.
Some human animal plucked her wings
and made off with her breath.
He probably went back to her
a few times despite decomposition
just to display dominance over her body.
They do that sometimes…(Arthur Shawcross,
Ted Bundy…you get the idea.)
It was like a horror movie
without a proper ending or plot.
The towns-people didn’t burn up
the monster; didn’t slash him
with a wolf’s head cane, and he didn’t
choke on earth’s toxic atmosphere.
He was never found.
~
A bluebird sat on my windowsill today.
He looked at me kind of funny.
As though before he flew off
he knew something I didn’t.
Powerfully penned, Tim. Excellent write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you. 🙂
hello dearest Tim this is very dark great write ❤️
Thank you, crimsin.
Wow! The whole write is moving but the line about having her wings plucked and her breath made off with, great metaphors for death. You have a great talent mister!
Thank you, my beautiful friend. 🙂