Even at 4:12 AM, in the chilling departure of winter
You can hear the birds singing
Did you know?
Even in the midnight blue, the breath from their lungs beam and pierce through the sky
Did you know?
I wasn't supposed to be alone. Trudging, hustling through the blocks of cement ahead. Abandoned by everything but cold and street lights.
I just want to get home.
I just want to get home.
These skinny jeans are doing nothing for me so I shift my legs frivolously. Halfway there. I wait at a stop light.
Then I hear the birds again. I smile as I realize that I'm not alone.
I'm not alone
Black.
The songs stop. My head hits the pavement. My breath is stuck in my throat and I only feel chimes in my ears. Ringing.
Cold. Its hands are so cold against my body as it forks its way through my clothes and on to my skin. Its weight crushing my belly. And finally its in and that's when my vocal chords no longer constrict.
Even at 4:47 AM, in the milk of the moon,
You can hear the birds singing
So I sing the strange, strangled notes as it chokes its way through my throat.
I'm not even aware of the creature above me with its cold hands, but just then
He stills. Listening to my song and my birds
New breath penetrates my lungs and my singing becomes louder, not quite matching the notes and then it's no longer singing
It's falling and weeping and choking on blood
All morphed into a deranged symphony
We all stop
Mangled body and my mind lay sprawled on the bed of cement
The sun peaks its head through the clouds
The song lingers, but is quickly slipping. Where are my birds? We've made a song through the darkness. The only thing that voids the pins and needles between my legs. My brain struggles to recite the twisted tune. Where are my birds? It's starting to fade from my brain. Help me remember. Where are my birds? Where the fuck are you? Just sing with me one last time. Please.
I lay there and pray for death.
I wasn't supposed to be alone
There's a flower petal hovering over me with my face on it. Looking at myself, and it's as if it never really happened. But it never did happen, right?
I wasn't supposed to be alone, so it never really happened
I should've worn better clothes, so it never really happened
I was supposed to be silent, so it never really happened
I wasn't supposed to fight, so it never really happened
It's supposed to be my fault, so it never really happened
I wasn't supposed to be alone.
And I'm grieving. Not my own death. But the departure of my birds.
But even at 5:24 AM, as streaks of violet makes its way into the sky,
You can hear the birds singing?
Did you know?
I knew
Because I sang with them.
