And now for you….

You make a mockery of my love. You lead me to the water, and no sooner than I can catch my breath and willingly dive, you push me in. leaving me, my lungs, and my life no warning. Then you cry and scream as I drown. I tread and reach towards the surface never seeing your arms plunge down to pull me up. Hearing your moans muffled by the bubbles as I sink to sit on the floor bed. You weep over the distorted image of my corpse under the blue, and then wave a better you down the beach to help. Admirable, desirable even, but too late. And then the tides change, and the two of you gaze on as the flames fly from the ripples and I rise once again. Unfamiliar to your eyes, you look on in pain and amazement as you’d never expect I’d be able to burn like this. So I soar off, and you heal up. We both become stronger, yet I’m the only one who’s really alone. You and yourself run back home to the village not far beyond the brush and study ways in which to be content, or to deal with the contentment therein. Yet when misery finds you relentlessly where you are, you look to the skies knowing I’ve never been far behind, knowing there’s no mountain whose peak I’ve not perched upon where I couldn’t see you and all that you are. Calling yourself liberated, yet still I see your footprints in the sand. You’ve been walking to my grave. To that spot where you let me die. Where you killed me. I visit myself, but roses won’t fall from my beak to kiss your cheek as he does. No. Instead, on nights when the moon is high and bright enough to cast my shadow against the rocks, I circle and listen in for your song…hoping that you may sing along with mine. But you don’t. I thought, maybe I should sing louder, more sweetly…but sweetness for you comes often in the form of a reluctant love your life will never allow you to truly feel, yet selfishly you won’t set free. So I silence my calls out to you, and follow the wind to another shoreline where I can sing all day. There, I’m reminded of how small the land where you live is. I’m reminded of the bittersweet sound of footsteps walking towards me that aren’t yours. There, I sit, and I listen to them sadly, wishing they were yours as I’m driven back to the deep and lonely sky. Back to watch over my tomb. Yet upon my return your pleading voice hits my ears with an urgency I can’t ignore, imploring me as if I was all that there was to save you and yours from the village and its tyranny. Bitter, yet ever compliant am I. Your plans of escape are elusive, and decadent as the folly of our love on the beach that day. And so I am captivated, drawn in, and not soon after comforted by the scent of duty calling me into action. I must’ve drifted by them, for I didn’t see the rocks defamed by your praises and prayers to such a false god as he. You’d extol him, in the evening, and call upon me in the early morning!? Not a squawk or a squeak shall leave my beak now. You’ll know what treachery my heart feels, as we conquer the hills ahead of us. You’ll have me for a moment, before I send you back to him and to your stones to continue your letters where you left him last. It will be yours to decide. You know that no death can keep me down, but a life with you would indeed by crown. Now keep your invitations, and I’ll speak not a word, lest I strike out as you have….besides, it’s much too beautiful of a day outside to not enjoy the colors with my own eyes.