sparrow

 

you haven't eaten in days,
I hold your hand like it is a dying bird,
hollow boned.

I want to tell you
you are beautiful,
but there are never enough words,

and we haven't spoken the same language
in years, so I watch you
carefully turning yourself inside out,

the lists begin to cover the walls,
the things you can't afford to let slide, the things you
refuse to forget.