I sang a song

I sang a song and wrapped

it in feathers; dutifully delivered

it to your door, in the hope

to see you dance.

I decanted the contents in

harmony with a red bow

on my chest – left no note untouched as

lyrics fell out

all over the carpet; staining your fabric

with a glitter, in my eyes.

But mine are mine and yours saw

cement

as you looked down upon my

creation; confusing double

entendres

with tunnel vision – no longer

hearing the music that I made

as you tossed down your own words

dipped in a sticky, sarcastic blood.

Blood of us

spattered over chorus and verses

subduing melodic love to silence.

I never expected to witness such

a massacre, here

on your doorstep

and have been doing my own dance

for rain

ever since.