love is the winged, wounded bird

she gave away the love we built,
and then my heart’s blood spilt
out of my soul, out of love’s bounds,
watered weak with sorrow’s sounds
a splendorous happiness now scorned…
nothing but sadness with us can be born.
and so it died and dried stiff on the vine
losing all the colors that once did bind.

time stopped…eons passed…tectonic plates
shifted in moments of the eternal wait!

then she returned and thought it would take,
only a second our love to remake,
but love so shattered, split and worn,
can never lift the crushing of love forlorn.
love’s back lies motionless, forever broken
once the foundation is cracked with words of token.
loss of trust and faith can never find its bosom rest
for our love is the winged, wounded bird that finds no nest.