You've told me
and you've been telling me
that the only place you're willing to be alive in this cruel world
is on rooftops
And that you've piled up many memories
there
is the only thing you say when I ask
why
It doesn't quench my curiousity at all
and from time to time I find myself wondering
Why?
Perhaps it gives you
peace of mind
Or maybe
it is the way the rain feels as it beats down on you and weighs you down(just like the whole world)
while you torture yourself with memories you've spat out again and
again
Or it could just simply be
the part of you
that craves the beauty of the night sky and the stars scattered all over her(like the freckles on your skin)
and the moon
how she's sworn herself to secrecy with secrets you've whispered in your sleep
and that she feels just like you
do -
plagued with darkness
outshone by others
and so, very, very cold
your
lips
are
in the pouring rain
us closer to the moon
than anyone in the neighbourhood
(perhaps she knows there is one more lonely soul admiring
beauty she could only ever envy on others.)