It's the quietest time of night
Where the moon has peaked
All is hushed
And you're supposed to be asleep

But your mind plays games
Making noise that keep you awake
Mocking your restlessness and fears
Little monsters play tug-of-war
And swing from moonlit chandeliers

I Find comfort in the dark
A pitch black tranquility
But little monsters search for a thought
To keep me awake unwillingly

Heart steadies like the sea
Holding on to the evanescent dreams
Waiting for the pounce of little feet
Jumping on on you like a trampoline

They've finally tuckered themselves out
From running about
They curl up beside me
And count their sheep
Beside little monsters
I sleep

Champagne bottles on the ground
Glitter splattered on walls
Tried to wash it all off
But it has stained the walls
Mascara on my face
Tried to clean the evidence of pain
But it hurts to confront it
I'll leave the wound to fester

Knocking on the door
Oh dear, Oh dear
Leave me alone
I won't come out, I won't come out
Might as well be hell

One more drink, One more drink
Please
Don't watch me, Don't watch me
Leave
Close the door, Close the door
Seclude myself in the cold

Chandeliers swinging, half broken, lights flickering
And I am the one swinging
Trying to make the last chain break into pieces
But it keeps holding on
Why won't it break I just want to fall
Feel my face on the ground
The Chandelier continues to shine while I try to die

I am holding on to dear life
Won't try to save myself though
Might as well try to let go
Maybe the Chandelier will fall, I am not sure
Glasses crackle under the pressure of my hands
Feel bad that I am destroying it
But I need your demise so I can die



© Sofia Villagrana 2018

when her ocean sounds
rang the pallid chandelier
i felt my blood cook
and disappear
the pool-house hummed
in the veil of night

i wanted to speak with her
beneath a canopy of lights
i miss her bathroom floor
(the meadow of clothing)
buried like carthage salt
and the hymns she half-sings
into thin air

Have you ever fallen in love?

I once did,
sitting on top of a sand dune
under the lights
of the Fourth of July.

                                         The water below
                                         cast the reflection of beautiful chandeliers
                                         bursting with color,
                                         and as timeless as sand,
                                         and yet my eyes were elsewhere -
                                         capturing something unlike I'd ever seen.

Have you ever fallen in love?

I once did,
laying on a couch as I held her,
she turned to me and smiled;
the chandeliers were bold and raucous
as they decorated the sky of my mind,
and the stars twinkled in the depths of her eyes -

                                        that memory since faded with time.

Have you ever fallen in love?

I once did,
the pen in my hand
gave birth to words and worlds
made from my reflection
like they were my children -
and I had always feared
impotency.

                                               I created places I'd never seen,
                                               but they were as real as sand,
                                               and for a moment,
                                               I felt like God:
                                               watching from above
                                               as my creations began to breathe.

Have you ever fallen in love?

I once did,
living on a page of black and white,
if I was God,
she was an angel,
and the song from her trumpet
reminded me of the chandeliers
I thought were lost in time.

Have you ever fallen in love?

I don't know if I ever have,
but what I have is something
that gives me a reason to be;

                                                 Something beautiful
                                                 and intricate
                                                 like a chandelier
                                                 whose glass was once
                                                 nothing more
                                                 than countless grains of sand.

Watch the trepidation in the swinging of a chandelier,
as its candles choreograph their own silhouettes
on the pallid walls
to the beat of the creaking ceiling.

When the roof caves in,
the walls will stop being a dance floor to ghostly shadows,
the chandelier will crash to the table,
and the song of a rusty, trepid chain will end.

You will have learn to let yourself waltz
to the music in your own head
and you will have to learn let others watch you
because you are a fire, not a ghost
and you do not belong in the shadows you create
when you’re secretly making your pain into art.