The music found in the silence is keeping me awake. I'm tangled in a quilt. I'm currently staring out my window, just me and the moon and the silence. It's not a full moon yet. but the moonlit shadows danced on my walls anyway. Theres just something beautiful about being awake and aware from sunset to sunrise. My thoughts are floating through space and my eyes are locked on the moon. Many souls all around the world are stepping into dreamland. And I decide to have another cup of coffee, filled with what it seems like endless scoops of sugar. As I sip my coffee I realize theres not a minute of sleep I will have till the next moonlight gleams

Her numb fingers flipped the pages of tale she knew and loved. She knew reading would cost her, her own body. But she loved the feeling of disappearing until the tale was closed. She would always sit in her favorite place, a bench located in a abandoned park. It was about the time of autumn, her breath would show with fog but her lips weren't visible. Her grandmother would always read this tale on the same bench and she would love seeing her disappear. Some of the words I couldn't read then, but now it's a easy read.

the pale moon light shined on her face
as the crisp autumn air blew her long silk hair back
she sat on a bench staring at a beautiful muilicolored tree
she had a small journal in one hand and a paintbrush in the other
she paints a silent picture
the paint brush dashes from side to side
so much color so much flow
she admired the people walking by
she would love the way her hands started to feel numb the more she painted
she would sit in the same bench season after season painting the same trees the same sky
but it would always look different

the glimmering reflection of the moon shined in the puddle of ginger tea
my shadow portrayed over the broken pieces of the musty blue tea cup
the golden sun disappears but the moon gleams lighter
as if the moon was disappearing as well

Sitting alone
watching the leaves
closing me eyes
as I take a sip of my piping hot coffee
the bitter autumn wind flips the pages of my journal
the sky become gloomy
and the fire is lit
still with a mug in my hand
I sip hot chocolate