Barn Owls (Tyto alba), family Tytonidae, order Strigiformes, Carrizo Plain National Monument, CA, USA

like the earth loves the rain,

knowing she’d never stay,

but needing her just the same.

She cried once in my arms

and I caught her tears

as if they were stars

fallen just for me...

but she wept for him.

I bandaged wounds

carved by another man’s hands,

whispering lullabies

to a heart that beat for someone else.

Every time she broke,

I shattered more quietly.

She kissed me...

like a door half-open,

warmth lingering on the threshold,

but her soul still pacing

somewhere far inside a house

I was never invited to live in.

And still,

I gave her my all,

a love without borders,

a fire without fuel,

a sea willing to drown

just to hold her reflection

for one more second.

Is this not the cruel poetry of love?

To give,

not for return,

but because you were born

with hands that only know how to hold,

even when holding means breaking.

They say unrequited love

is the purest kind.

Perhaps because it never has the chance

to rot with reality.

It stays eternal;

not because it lives,

but because it dies

beautifully.

To love like this

is to bleed in silence

and call it devotion.

To smile through heartbreak

because her happiness,

even in someone else's arms...

still feels holier

than my own.