My heart is an untrained homing pigeon.
It will not return once I set it free,
Or swoop to avoid head-on collision,
Or show the slightest loyalty to me.
It won't be content with the crumbs you drop
To coax it up onto your calloused hand,
But I'm finding that it will always hop
To the barren plains of the lovelorn's land.
For, once it's flown, it can never return
To a place where your eyes are not the sun.
I sit in grounded nests and pray I'll learn
How to love and not hurt who I'll become.
Fleeing from frost, my heart took the wrong course
And rotted through sweetness I can't endorse.
