Nightingale where will your song go?

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Incomprehensible decisions. 28/4/16

It is a challenge in itself

to know the date 

when your heart will be broken

and to watch it inexorably 

draw closer and closer 

until the day is upon you. 

And you know, and she knows

that nothing will ever be same. 

And you are told not to worry about the future,

yours or hers, because everything is going to be

fine. 

Bravado of the highest order

from a nightingale who sings only of

her pain

and love

and joy

and passion for expression,

all day every day.

Yet she plans to bottle it. 

It is a living oxymoron.

A plan... 

Of denial. 

 

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