Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Forests

Swallows in the forest,

silently searching for a branch to call home,

spying on me,

as I swallow my apprehensive affirmations.

I will tell the truth,

tepid tears,

shining, sweet in the moonlight.

Birds brush up against my reality,

and everything feels so final, but so new.

The night is unforgiving,

and I am understanding a little better,

why the mornings are so needy.

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