Poem -

"P.S. Thanks, Little Birdie."

"P.S. Thanks, Little Birdie."

At this point, I can only say all but nothing to you.

But hell, I wouldn't even know where to begin if you asked what was running through my mind. 

I could start from the very beginning, I suppose. 

You were so wonderful. 

Your kind blue shade of eyes, made me think of old summer vacations in Munising. 

Your eyes were the kind that took me back to the  gaze out into the blue sky  on a windy day in the Upper Peninsula. 

With the pine trees swaying in perfect movements, enough to give you that earthy, bark smell with a hint of cinnamon. 

You asked so many questions about me.

What I liked to do for fun. 

What came to mind as I thought of my perfect life.

You even asked me what seemed to be pointless questions. 

Ones like,

Which side of the bed I preferred. 

My favorite form of cuddling. 

And. . . so on.

I wasn't blind to it after time, I swear. 

I didn't misunderstand the venom that spewed out of you in such romantic gestures. 

I never misinterpreted the compliments as something special. 

But, all while I knew every part of you was poison, I drank it sip by sip. 

Now, here we are. 

Looking at each other, quickly yet vividly remembering the one night where you tried to boost your ego even higher. 

You took my innocence in the only good relationship I have ever known. 

"I didn't intend for this to happen."

You told me after you repeatedly left trails of kisses under my ear. 

You pushed me against the fence at 2 in the morning, and had your every way with me. 

Outside with nothing but the stars watching us. 

Or so we sure as hell hoped so.

But, we don't talk anymore.

So, I just want to leave you this. 

Hey, Little Birdie. 

It's me. 

I thank you for referring me to one of your friends. 

You were our "Little Birdie".

 Hence, the cool nickname. 

Maybe you found someone else. 

Maybe you are still trapped by the ghost of your ex lover. 

And maybe. . . you were just sick of me. 

So, I appreciate you handing me off like I am a toy. 

You remind me of a child, you know?

Just like Christmas morning. 

Opening the gift, 

letting the fascination sink in,

and handing it off.

Awaiting for the next. 

You know, your friend.. .

He's just like you. 

He talks to me just the way you did. 

All the same patterns. 

I know them all. 

This time? 

I'm done being okay with it.

I am done waiting for the kind eyes to finally feel something real towards me.

 Maybe they aren't so kind afterall, are they? 

You are a void that's been created in my life. 

Only this time, I feel the decision to either stay or leave. 

I'm choosing to leave. 

And I sincerely hope you take this as a learning experience, but since I know you are now like the rest. . . 

Good luck out there.

P.S. thanks, Little Birdie. 

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i had to fix it up a bit. it's better, now :) 

Rose Sho

Enjoyed reading through your write...A lovely piece for a start...Welcome to Cosmo


thank you so much, darling!

Christopher Correia

wow, that is quite an introductory poem to a poetry site, hawesm your write is so well voiced and rich in detail, honestly I couldn't stop reading, so captivating and 'rational' is the narrative, reads like an intimate letter.... so very cool, liking your style, hoping to read more from you, and welcome   


Thank you so much, oh my goodness. You are way too kind!