Blackbird
I had an odd epiphany the other day About a young woman in her twenties with a story to tell.
It’s an unfinished affair, this story that I tell,
The one with the whims of youth and the tunes of a blackbird.
It’s half past three in the morning and she looks wide awake—
Her thoughts are racing and her nerves are unmatched. I whisper, “Tell me a story and make me sleep,
The one with the whims of youth and the tunes of a blackbird.”
Her tales seem nonsensical and hasty; Her eyes light up when she recites the loosely constructed debauchery;
Her words create a whirlwind of half-hearted morals and speculative delusions—
The one that comes with the whims of youth and the tunes of a blackbird.
As she flies away, my heart breaks a little and then some more.
A part of me, she takes— Something irreplaceable, Something simple, Someone I love.
I had an odd epiphany the other day
About a friend—a soulmate—a reflection, if I may. She flew into the horizon—into a better place— Because after all, I am her and she is me,
And we are humming the tunes of the blackbird every day.
