Aug 2016
there are too many lights in this sky,
too concerned with the black emptiness that surrounds,
that they forget their soft glimmers,
the ones that stroke desolate grasses of backyards behind homes that shiver with the turn of a doorknob, and cry with the closing of that window in the upstairs bedroom
too concerned with the black emptiness that surrounds,
that they forget their soft glimmers,
the ones that stroke desolate grasses of backyards behind homes that shiver with the turn of a doorknob, and cry with the closing of that window in the upstairs bedroom
too many people demean themselves before they can realize how much they mean to the people around them
(New York)
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