To find something that was not there before,
To stare at a telephone that will not ring,
With a tiredness of the eyes and a taint of the heart.
To notice that sometimes words are not enough.

To follow the dances of strange fingerprints,
To terrorize the etchings on the skin,
To burn last nights cigarettes into the lips.
To distract the longing of the heart.

To know a moment in many different ways,
To understand that it could not exist,
To wonder if it was ever there at all.
To find a sincerity in delusion.

To understand the power moonbeams,
How they mar the bones, in their fictions,
To know the subtle parallels of love and hate,

How they act as partners in crime.

To the devastating follies that transpired in the night.
So hauntingly lovely.
That one may not mind carrying them,
Like sad love letters, clinging to the loneliness of secret places.


It's the type of sadness you don’t really mind noticing.
-


*"I wish I could kiss you all night."
"Maybe you just might."