some of us carry our defenses on the outside
because saying goodbye is transcendental
the conscious within relapses the external
his mate forever lost to human intervention
sorrow wallows in the ruffle of a feather
today we learn
the bluebird wears his blues like a coat of armor
facing a displayed series of consequences
where steam dissolves into the background
the pale prairie painted against the window
a sad twist fate has on spring time
for the bluebird and his lover.
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