its harder to speak than to yell.
and harder to yell than to.....think.
but.
as the slumber passes, and the daisies awake.
i feel as if i could talk to you.
just talk.
it might not be a real conversation.
because i might jut blink. and the time i felt i could talk.
would have dashed away from me.

in the night, the stars form into flowers.
others see constellations, or space stations.
but i am unique. i see picturesque flowers bathing in the night glow.
iris. rose. both in bloom. blossoming from the roots of the starry night.
it is really easy to know.
just harder to
speak.

Stars in paint, crackled glaze
walk the cobbled street with me.
ochre, blue and wizened haze,
A swirling canvas galaxy.

Light my broken dawn, my love
darkened hours, quiet night
bring me all the skies above
and drape the dim and pale moonlight.

Sadness, silence, watered cheeks
sunflowers waving in the dirt
charcoal clouded, ever bleek,
dark storms brew like bruises hurt.

Dewy glass and fired ale
absinthe daydream, starry night
touch my arm, porcelain frail
pale skin and paler light.

The Night

The night crept in, slowly but surely.
The night smothers the city in darkness.
The moon shines bright.
The hall light creeps beneath my door.
I glance at the stars, and see such beauty.
I wonder, are you looking at them too?
Wondering if I’m watching the same stars as you.
My mind seems to be drifting away,
Just like my worries.
If I say starry night, I expect you to think of the
Time you were laying on a grass field
Staring into space, even if you weren’t.
The murky sky and the luminous
Stars put me to sleep.
I am safe and warm in my bed,
Underneath the night sky.

The tenderness of stars is true
When darkness swallows careful
And I lean back next to you
Of all things learned and taught
Only one I know to be thoughtful
In matters alone and matters not
Only and only the tenderness of stars is true