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Birdwatching
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He knows his emotional traumas are safe with me,
because heβs 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 Iβve been told I could levitate so many times,
now I believe it,
I just take this one final walk.
Itβs 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 donβt need to be told,
Iβm the only one drops fall down on like flood.
Iβll 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”
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Guess love is what kills us and flies us to the Moon. Excellent writing Ana. π
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Beautiful. Loved it.
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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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