And I think I'll call these the lost nights.

The nights where the silence is all consuming. Shapeshifting into black holes.

The only light at the end of this tunnel used to be the sound of your voice.

But now I'm stuck between the four walls of my mind that taunt me with the secrets they hold in the form of my memories.

The most prevalent one says that you'll never call.

So far it's been right. Sometimes I ignore it.. But nights like these, it ricochets like gunshots. Screaming to be more than heard..

Screaming to be felt.

And once again I'm reminded that I'd rather it be your voice that broke the silence instead of my memory of it.

I think I'll call these the lost nights.

The sun in my paradise
never rise
It's a cold and dark world
I live in
I belong to a galaxy of
Dead stars

In a coffee shop
Past memories haunt
Took out my pen
To give 'em a shape
In a tissue paper
A raw poem
Etched with
So many emotions