This is the bird I gave you because
Near you, it always sings
You love it, you say.
You feed it and tend it but you never let it out
You never hold its trembling tiny body
And feel its heart race.
I wonder if you have a room full of caged birds,
And love them all equally,
Platonically and
Distantly.
My heart is a triphammer,
My heart is shot silk,
My heart is
not a bird.
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