I sat on the balcony tonight cutting open the skin around my ankles. I rested them up on the balcony railing & laid back in my chair, letting the blood drip down to the ground below. Back into the earth where it belongs.
I have tried to take photos of the sparrows flitting through the air catching mosquitos. They know I am there even though I do not make a sound. I catch a thought of you, wondering what kind of sounds you’re making right now. Whether you’re alone, or with friends, with a lover? Maybe you’re breathlessly making love out in the open like I am imagining with you right now. Maybe you’re sleeping or working. I don’t know where you are.
Having not heard from you in a while I figure there must be a new woman on the scene. Yes, that is the first thing that comes to mind… You rarely talk about women. The occasional mention of someone from the past… Ringa… She seems to come up the most. Maybe I am like her? Maybe not.
I look down at the ankles that keep me walking further from you.
The blood drips still…

Sparrow Flower

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