More birds? More birds.
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@ -59,4 +59,6 @@ When I got home, I lay them in a row, asked my question, and, one by one, broke
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What had I lost?
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What had I lost?
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Why does memory stain me with that black, tarry guilt? I had forgotten about the birds until recently, but every time I feel that ecstasy - that ekstasis - I am pitch. I am tar. I am sticky with apology. I am the living embodiment of "I'm sorry".
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> Why does memory stain you with that black, tarry guilt?
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I had forgotten about the birds until recently, but every time I feel that ecstasy - that ekstasis - I am pitch. I am tar. I am sticky with apology. I am the living embodiment of "I'm sorry".
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