The voice of the morning bird

Always arrives at dawn

Saying

The scorned woman is who became

I watched my world burn saying not only one,

But two names,

In vein.

I realize the ultimate truth

There wouldn’t be this version of me without you,

And yes,

You too.

My love is sacred and deep.

Existing in the enchantment of the night

Falling asleep to childhood giggles and sharing secrets

Woven together to watch our demons unite,

Moments quilted capturing each experience

To wear and keep warm and divine

Shielding the worlds atrocities,

it’s demise.

Helplessly watching the rivets torn apart

Something that,

No

I didn’t expect from the start,

Leaves me lost at sea

Only images of where I think our story lands.

I think it exists in universe upon universe

Out of my hands

And I go back to the thoughts of my love

Being sacred and deep

You needed to be free

And I,

Comprehend

that’s what love really means.

Reflections captivate my deepest aches

And I know I didn’t need much,

Only you at the end of the day.

Peter Parker losing Mary Jane,

Or maybe it’s his Gwen Stacey,

Once it’s too late is when we see

Blood stained decisions

of a foolish boys destiny.

In the ashes of what was cherished

Existed fury, blood, and wrath

But that is forever mine to have.

So the scorned woman is who I became

I watched my world burn saying not only one,

But two names,

In vein.

But as time continues as they say it does

I’ve learned

Peace doesn’t look like forgiving the discerned

Rather

I don’t bend to half hearted apologizes

Or rationalities of why two people

Could be so cruel to me.

Peace is learning when to scream

resilience

rather than pleas

Knowing,

I think a part of you hates

It respects me.

We both know I don’t bend,

Hold my self high

Higher than most.

Dancing with my ghouls and ghosts

I am not afraid to be abandoned or

To own a room,

I go after what is authentic

What is true.

So I let you go,

I walked away.

How sacred my love is

And that depth stays.

I let you lean into thrills

And I lean into my ink coated quills

The voice of the morning bird

Always arrives at dawn

In boldness, passion, revelations

A haunting truth

Never gone.