Lovebird

I threw you sweet words
as if feeding crumbs to wild birds,
from broad, square hands
their beautiful biographies etched and hewn.
Now your cackling howls of sarcasm
swirl around my ears,
like ravenous crows
dive-bombing my ego
intent on devastation.
I cower on one bloodied knee
rifling each pocket
for the mirror that will repel you,
if this is your love, you should see it,
in reflection
my passion, ripped carrion
under your fierce talons

© Graham Sherwood 2/2014