Killing two Birds With One Stone

A flash of finger down my neck
And the wren sings to the dove
Perhaps I am in a different body, or a different time
But no, there he is in his anger
The door slams, but I am too intoxicated
With my mistake

I can feel his breath on my lips
Is mine just as sweet
When a wren builds a nest
Will the eggs hatch a tuft of white, or a smothering of brown

The touch was too intimate
It spoke of knowledge that only he should share

As the lights draw dark
And my arms twine closely with the dove
I watch as his body breaks
And I have ruined everything.