Birds

The birds woke me up this morning

They whispered from my patio to come outside

It's 7 am and my eye are bleeding

My ears are muted as I tiptoe

A bird awaits me sitting on my rusted bench

I take the seat next to him but hoping he will leave

I know what he has to say, but my ears are hollow

I've already made my mind up about him

I won't even flinch when he tells me my truth

convincing myself he's crazy, as if I'm the epitome of sanity

so when he's finished, his echoing voice lingers in the morning air

the breeze carries it far, far away from here, while I avoided contact with his beady eyes

I tread lightly on the crooked stones that form my path

careful to be small, insignificant and frail

till I reach the door, he feels so far away now

mistakenly glancing back as if by instinct

I see a silhouette

of the man I love slowly vanish away with the silence.