Midnight started going by Night when she turned twenty-five. She was letting the tides guide. Getting her chakras aligned. Drinking smoothies. Said it was a New Moon, ‘ya know? A blank slate. A fresh canvas. Said this would make her whole.

Maybe it’ll stick. Maybe this new dawn will be the last. Only Earth knows, of course. But I heard through the grapevine that Daylight’s been saying it’s just a phase.

There we are
Bundles of thoughts and nerves
We plan and script
Burn the midnight oil
Charting paths and mapping
Defining destinations
But then, life happens

And it will

I suppose I could brood
And close tired eyes
Or I could lasso a cloud
And hitch a ride to paradise

Time’s a thief
—though can you blame her?
I want to be in a room
bathed in shades of you, too.
So long as your laugh echoes,
still in the corners of my mind,
your birthday balloon
will remain; limply dangling from
your favorite chair in the family room,
nylon ribbons frayed and loose
Because time is unkind.

It serves to remind that
you should be here;
And I,
Bathed in shades of you.