Reaching back a bit for this one because I’ve been living in The Land of Revision as of late instead of writing new things. I’ll be glad to find some sort of an end to this project if only to say it’s done. In the meantime, enjoy this little chestnut from a few years back.

birds of a feather

because birds of a feather who never quite come together
are pulled apart from the part from which they want to be
a part... something whole for once instead of a piece
without peace that never quite finds that lease on life - 

first or second
that they’ve heard so much about
and without a doubt the hardest part 
is the softest spot
because that’s where the dagger goes

and it shows in the way that she
curls away from life in general - the way
she turns away from even the slightest compliment
or passing glance that never quite passes without a chance

to cut... or pierce that veil of stale air that surrounds
her inside that armor shell