I talked stars onto strings,
Dancing with my fingers,
Draped in dreary shadows-
Under whispering widows,
Weeping on the wall

Or

Walked a mile backward
On the ashen red bricks
Of wishing wells who
Wondered at the soles of my feet
and the Souls of my heart.

Or

Maybe I wrote a letter
Written in cursive amongst the stars
That turned and left me
To copulate with the night;
Born the Moon

Who

Locked my words away
In a vault in ashen walls,
Told a story under her breath
Of a man who watched
A sunset in silence.