Sparrow

Wordlessly, I envy his lack of sorrow,
As I sit, watching his lies fall,
Onto my heart, into my stomach,
I devour them.
They taste like plastic-soft and full of lead
They coat my pity, turning it into a perfect, precious pill,
Easy to swallow.

My words; they flutter away, empty
While his words assault my ears
His back, strong and graceful
Turns to me
I raise my hand to caress it
But the distance is already too great

The stained and weary door
Yields to him without a sigh of regret,
And my hand falls into my lap once more.
I stare at it, seeing something strange,
And terrible there
Like a dead sparrow on a snowy sidewalk.