The Unrequited Lover of Hers the Mockingbird Stumbled Upon

 

Her with the BaIMG_5310mbi eyes,
Tears streamed down her face.
Memories of the one that got away, encased within her soul embrace.
Flushed cheeks, swallowed the lies behind their goodbyes.

Isolated herself down in the wilderness,
Pondered her innocence against her stuffed nose; among the branches, the mockingbird stared.
Demonstrated its dolour’s in soft tunes upon the air, as the wind tickled her ears beneath her wild curly hair.
Yet her sorrowed heart; pulsated her mind, upon the fellow’s carelessness.

“Thou shalt not cry, for the beacon of light thou possess contrasts with the grim aura he bestowed upon thee,” the mockingbird said.
“I do not cry; yet my infatuation has allowed my faith to yonder down.”
Brittle nails, torn lilac dress, dropped the keys to her humanity below the rustling leaves.
“I do not know what to say; for my heart aches ‘it’s dead!’!”
“Allow thy-self for thyself; for a man, as a coward, as he shall fade away in the harsh night’s breeze, away with thy sorrows, calming thine ease.”
The crinkles by her eyes, cornered lips upright, with her glassy eyes; the fluttered wings of the figmented bird sauntered away into the trees from the dire girl’s town.

 

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