The Birdcage
She sang at night, facing the windows, dreaming of flight. I always thought her sad as her somber little tune would echo throughout my bones, though I knew I couldn’t release her. She was my captive, my muse- the very reason I existed. And then one day her song was over. Now I stand here, an empty vessel, wishing for some bright creature to replace her.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
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