The day is gone,
along with my mind.
The tears on your cheeks remain,
but the streetlight made your lips more inviting
then my heart could dare handle.
I gave in to your shoulder blades,
surrendered my veins to your spine.
The children still play in the trees,
but refuse to come down on Sundays.
I am sorry I broke your eyes,
just close them through February.
Even the stars fall off their pedestals.