Last night I heard you whispering to the stars
You told them you were a husk of a person,
an empty eggshell
so fragile,
so blank.
You tied your secrets to blazing ***** of dust
and whispered wind between the flames
Darling,
inside of the husk there is so much fruit
you  are an eggshell; a vessel
carry the soul inside you with pride.
The stars are long dead
Yet they shine on.
- *u.f.m