nothing to be
‘cause there’s nothing to see
under the wing of a blackbird
their squandered love
paid for the bed
slept in many a night
and the windows crack
on poor momma’s back
while the feeder remains empty
the dirt in her skirt
removed the dead skin
him floating in heaven again
and the blackbird returned
the feathers she borrowed
hoping he’d get out of her head
Nothing in this poem is true, as far as I know. Simply a fantasy burrowed. Displayed. 🖤
Take care 🤗
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