I Want To Call You Nightingale

by The Editor

The books in my library are blank

Their prints have faded

The bindings grow tighter and shut me out,

Each day I feel less possibility for us.

My bones have grown heavy

Surely my tendons are tired of supporting the weight

My cuts do not bleed now,

They become valleys, dark and gaping…

The walls in this garden seem higher

More mess grows between us

I can’t peer over the hedges at you anymore

I haven’t heard your voice in years

What a tar we’ve created from all our great expectations

I stand in the center of your room

Staring at the unmade bed

Becoming a topiary for the vines

By Me (KVR)