February

Snow glistens, lonesome landscapes

Shadowed blue hues, short winter days

I dreamt of freedom inside a prison cage

like a bird with clipped wings, you kept me there

grown accustomed to the breadcrumbs, you called it love

one day you left the cage open, I stumbled out

Now my aching broken heart calls his name,

cherry red lipstick-stained cigarettes

I don't feel like a winner,

now that I've left for a while back in December

Trust me, I wanted to stay

but now it's February and I'm merely miles away

I've wrote you poetry everyday

Dreaming of breadcrumbs and a birdcage