#cockrel

Because my face is the best liar in me and not many people know it.

These days there’s something about the heaviness of a real laugh.

The way it pours, the way it erupts like it’s something broken.

You make me do it tonight, again and then again until I remember its sound, until I remember how to hold it in my chest.

I think of dawn and what capacity the roosters must feel with the morning’s light bathing their feathers.

Red glow.

How it must feel like the first time they’ve been touched, over and over again.

How much they praise the love of day.

How they must want to smile the only way they know how.

How much they want to say it.

This is the way I loved you.

A young rooster finds a perch, puffs out his feathers and makes the best of the cold weather.