we played beautifuly like strings of silk between our hands
one by one one your fingers unlached
the strings snapped like a razor
pressing into my viens like torns from a baracade
you hid your songs
and your words become hostel
i miss the chant of songs of birds from the morning sun
and the sounds of lulabys in my ears
did a new moon rise your way
because i can feel myself falling over the bleeded sky.