A string of verses on a thread of twitter prompts.
The words I couldn’t say,
I hear them in the wind
and in the falling leaves,
but they mutter loudest in the raindrops,
dripping from the eaves.
I let you go because you wouldn’t stay,
the ties that bind all came undone,
floating like silver gossamer in the breeze.
You wouldn’t give me back my heart,
A keepsake, you said with a tragic air.
But you will forget, let its fluttering die,
a dull brown bird
with no song to sing.
Should I have known and raised my guard,
a carapace of tempered steel,
against the sweet words and soft looks you shot my way?
Can any heart become stone at will,
and the song in the blood a battle cry?
Had I held myself aloof
and turned away the fiery flow,
I would not have known the pain of broken dreams,
but nor would I have seen blue horses running,
and firebirds paint the sky with flame.