HUSH

BIRDS I HEAR

Distance is both a blessing and a curse,

liberated from what you thought was yours.

Words are just words, but anger is a cage—

bullets to the dead is a fight you waste.

Tell me where do I stand when I don't know

how to grow and wander if I don't go?

I'm parting ways in peace without hatred

for the sake of our memories unsaid.

Now, I plant the flowers I wished you gave

while the birds spit aggression on my grave.

The hush of a ghost is what I know best

as colors are unveiled in my silence.

*

I hear what the birds are chirping about.

I'm the type of person who'll disappear after being drained, but I will still catch a bullet for you, I'd offer you my properties, and even drive miles for you. But at the end of the day, I still need my space.

Think about whatever good or bad reason your brain can muster, but this is who I am... Whatever you feel will be your cage or liberation so be careful and process your thoughts before you go spit on someone's grave, okay?