Her heart torn open

And left like an unanswered letter.

Words were not spoken

Just left in a spidery scrawl.

Twisted and gutted,

The last of the smoke in the air.

She gets up to leave

And idly fixes her hair.

What we miss are words from home.

I lost my heart

I left it alongside the river.

That blackbird clucking

Songs he knows nothing about.

That bird returning

To a home that makes him sing out.

What we need are words from home.