Little Bird Poetry

 The mirror cracks when my eyes reflect the person in the room waged battles between sinners and saints  rage behind dark amber gates always roaring like starved lions quietly pacing cages awaiting the day the bars might bend she's always boiling threatening to spill over  destroying whatever still lays on the counter dotted with yellowing photographs of smiles that no longer grace those faces notes echo words that never had the chance to be spoken stale cigarettes lie there still smudged with colors from long lost lips empty liquor bottles not one having their lid but not one spilling the secrets they hold yet  in a storm so wild a hole remains unfilled no liquor nor water could ever fill the pit in which I lie all but have given up on ever being pulled out

 They say that girl thinks only in black  and white no grey area in sight not a place for thoughts to settle as it's good or evil never somewhere in between devils and angels ever get the chance to even brush fingertips little do they know that right below the battlefield of thoughts lies a deep whole not light nor dark where the sinners come to play and all of her thoughts roam in technicolor

 What would you give to fall in love for the very first time for that love that exists only in thoughts the feelings created in thin folds of membrane moving from nerve to nerve exciting one to the tips of their fingers down to the soul the one only seen when the eyelids close and a sigh escapes partially separated lips the flashes of memories seen only through rose-tinted glasses of a spark that slowly builds itself  into a roaring bonfire so beautiful as it destroys all it touches only when it dies and the ash settles do you mourn something that never really was there

 The feeling sinks in again Being left behind And knowing all of those who cared Couldn't be made to stay Memories slip through my fingers A burning rope As it takes me down to the bone Ripping away my flesh Until I have no choice But to sit and suffer Forcing myself to tear open wounds That had not yet had the chance to heal Facing heartbreaks That should have never gotten in the door Singing a lonesome song Crying out into the frigid air Who cares for the lost dog Beaten and mangey Left to rot In the slurries of men's devices I know not  The woman who stares back A collection of projects Always started but never quite done Years of facades falling apart Peeling like paint from molded walls I can beat my hands on the damp porcelain My screams to deaf ears Voices echo through Saying "I'll never hurt you" What is it The point of feeling When in the end not a single one cares Of the wreckage their storm leaves Is that why it never works My soul burns so savagely It ...