I hear the birds sing at my window,

shuffling and ruffling their delicate feathers

I too am delicate.

The fan is whirring by my

Bedside. Shaking spinning breathing

I too am breathing

What is the air I breath? Why is it thick like honey and weighs my chest like lead?

The suns gentle rays feel like laser beams, waking me from the gentle peace that oblivion brings.

Happiness is only in my dreams

Mistakes flash by like photographs.

Regrets, lost hope, dreams spilling by like an opened faucet, spinning down the drain as I try to catch them with chopsticks.

I miss the birds that sing and waking to sundrops with a smile at the coming day.

I miss who I am; who I was.

Maybe one day I’ll meet her again. But that day is not today. 

Wherever she is, I hope she is resting peacefully,

waiting for me to return to her in the quiet sleep.

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