Coming Back

I feel life ebbing, a sense of something dying, but my heart is a prisoner holding on to the prison bars of my chest yelling to be released and for one last moment of glory run wild and free and barefooted these wheat fields before me. And I’m also that raging river that yearns to find its death inside your lips, and like a junkie alive out of his mind, ruined by the pursuit of liquor and highs and failed love, I’ll happily contemplate the beauty of the sky from some god forsaken gutter though the night is tarnished only in that the stars do not match the fire in your loins. But I’ll returned to this landscape to a choir of birds. And I’m that one bird somewhere in the back lacking form and technique and refined grace but my song is vibrant with the colours that you’ve injected into my arms.

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4 thoughts on “Coming Back

  1. Every time I read…mixture of sadness and brilliance, goose bumps and sighs …smiles and ache. Your words love… again and again calling me. Grazie for sharing of your heart. Bells xxx

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The grace held within your words…beautiful always

    Constantly finding myself grateful and ravenous with u love…
    grazie! Hugs, Bxxx

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