for

    once,

   i would

love

      to be

         the poem

and

     not

         the poet

The night sky,
Is simply just,
A graveyard of stars.

Corpses of light,
That live on eternally,
Even after their death.

A universe away,
They call out,
Into a hopeless infinity.

Because there is no one left,
To hear their,
Silent and desolate screams.

Tonight
When I entered my apartment
The stairs were lying like tired men after a hard day's work
The door a yawning mouth
My TV was listening intently to the sports newscast
And
Like a ******* woman, the couch was sitting on the floor  
Hardly breathing the used air
The curtain tickled the cheek of the window……
Swaying gracefully above
My books slept like babies on the hands of the bookshelves
The dining table was listening to the whispers of her chairs
The lamps were winking at to each other
The fan was busy flailing her arms indifferent
In my apartment
The life looks the same as I left it  
Everything is normal
No,  
It is more than normal
Strange…….
No one missed me?

Before the wind wounded me.

Before my petals broke.

Before my roots withered.

Before the cold silenced me.

I was a flower.

Now I am nothing.

i am so tired
but
everything that
exhausts me
keeps me
awake
at night

i believe,
even the stars
get tired.

when the night sky
had folded them away
back into the darkness

and the moon,
that lonesome thing,
has doused itself in shadows.

so will you too, my friend
shy away from the light
as if it would burn
if it reached you.

maybe you feel,
you just are not strong enough
to face the day.

that the midnight hour
is a broken thing

and oh, the silence
is deafening.

and you and i know, even the stars
are tired.

you mourn for them
as their light expires.