call me at the midnight hour by the rainy window
we will watch the blue stars come alive
shooting down
into the late december sea

You smile like you do not want to be hurt
you are afraid of not being responsible
to the children
who you pretend to garner
and guide, knowingly,
pretentiously into a world
you have woven
with such subtle doubt

You cry yourself to bed
after you put your only daughter to sleep
and look into the black night ahead
with silver moons under your eyes
tired and dreaming of love

You watch a film and smile a sober smile
then walk slowly to clean up after
dinner
and stare a stolen gaze
like your eyes are not yours and your
reflection isn't yours to stare
at the glass to the right of your misery, somewhere
numb to your touch
and comprehending

the arrested state of your being
your soul,
somewhere up in the september clouds
just above your home sweet home

Why don't you rid yourself of these shiny
achievements
and sit back without ignoring for once
the blue light you bleed upon the sun

Why don't you want to be more of nothing
and less of you?

we look in wonder at the night sky
but the night sky is struck silent
looking back at the Earth.

when a boy shows you his hands
bare except for the dust
he’s begging you to look past
take them in yours.
squeeze them once.
twice.
say without speaking
that you understand that the valleys
in his palms were meant to cradle
shooting star wishes
that he’s allowed to still hope for.
when a boy shows you his eyes
of milk and crimson and melanin
a bloodshot vein for every night he can’t sleep
let him shut his eyelids.
say without speaking
that you understand that the black hole pinpricks
of his irises hold more than the universe
should allow.
when a boy shows you his soul
shivering but still working toward friction
iced over but still working toward melting
let him come to rest next to yours.
say without speaking
that you understand that he is lonely
and that his silence speaks volumes
and that you kept his treasure close
because you love him.
when a boy shows you his hands
show him your hands.
when a boy shows you his eyes
show him your eyes.
when a boy shows you his soul
show him that
this is a comfortable place to rest it.
when a boy shows you the hardness that shaped him
show him the softness
that you have in store.

Heaven my sweet girl
my beautiful muse
is not a place in the sky
or in far and distant dreams
it is the place I have seen
in the dark endless pupils
of your eyes
and the place my heart sings of
when beating to the rhythm
of your name
it is the way you touch
below the surface of my skin
and carve a moment of eternity
from the dying moonlight
and burn it into my kneck
with the smile of your kiss
and it is only fools love
and a fool that loves you
and it may only be pretend
or words trapped in a book
never to be read
by jestets or queens
and if it is only here in fairy tales
may I never be real
other than these black ink stains
on this lonely page