dreadfulbeauties

there’s no bird in the cage.
cinder and ash
stain bars made of gold.
not even the bones are left.

it’s your fault she’s gone.
you won’t find her behind you.
the hand in the cradle is only bone.

maybe this time
if you hold her a little tighter
the flames will not kiss her so.
maybe this time
if you work a little harder
she’ll unfasten the cage’s door.

but love could never save her.
it would only leave smoke
rasping from her lungs.