I bought my peace in silver flakes,
from shadow hands in quiet breaks.
They said it shimmered, said it flew —
but gravity still pulled me through.

I lined the stars on bathroom tile,
called it freedom for a while.
It sparkled like a borrowed sky —
but burned like comets passing by.

I chased the night, I chased the glow,
until the stars fell down below.
And when the morning asked for me —
I left in dreams I’d paid to see.