the messenger

and she was just
a messenger
who pecked at
your caked walls
that held it all in,
making you feel
your quiver of fear
whispering each time
that it's okay to love,
a little more,
as your fingers
now pick up
those love-tipped arrows,
waiting for you
and everyone else,
fired into the silence
of this heart,
heavy
with disbelief.

and a nightingale sings
into another dark night
looking for the moon
in the still waters
in her eyes.