He knows his emotional traumas are safe with me,
because he’s one of mine
and instead of fussing over him,
I dive deep into self-blame.
He knows his victim agony is a cancelled show,
I sold the tickets and bought them back one by one too.
His room has the thickest walls on earth,
how else could I hear this silent torment I whispered into them?
They saved it since their owner would never.
Am I uncomfortably kind for letting his tensions unwind?
He leads the road downhill,
but I’ve been told I could levitate so many times,
now I believe it,
I just take this one final walk.
It’s the first and the last time we birdwatch at night,
these silent eyes,
days of facing lies,
and flying creatures uncontrollably chirping,
crashing the skies.
He sits, admires, mumbles,
looks at me in awe every minute to tell me
how birds drain out of blood,
I don’t need to be told,
I’m the only one drops fall down on like flood.
I’ll levitate, you taught me,
but will you keep birdwatching?
Their voice brings nothing but the reminder of despair,
I hope you stay long enough to get squeezed and die by this remorseful air.

3 responses to “Birdwatching”

  1. Guess love is what kills us and flies us to the Moon. Excellent writing Ana. 😇

  2. This is a very impactful piece of writing. Feels so accurate because I’ve lived several of these lines. Excellent writing.


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