Did you lose your song?

Where did you lose your song little bird?
I never hear you anymore.
The sun rises quiet and alone.

Was it in writhing flesh
lost in strange bodies,
cold touch and whiskey breath?

Where did you lose your long little bird?
I thought I heard you this morning,
but it was the wind chilling my bones.

Was it in cutting words
reflected in the mirror,
violent hunger and sweat?

Don’t you know?
The mountains have nothing to echo,
they are just carbon and voiceless stories.

Don’t you know?
The moon has stopped chasing the sun.
There is no melody to bring the morning.