You were  bright-eyed like a flouriest
                     angel lighting up the streets.


But they can be dimming.


            Night has away of draining
                                                  beauty

into void less shadows.

I once saw stars in your eyes,
          now all I see is the space

in-between.

Flowers blossoming,
            spring breezes
            were your words to me.

I found you clipped,
           dead eclipses vacant within you.


It doesn't matter how bright you shine,
                               the city may outshine

                                                  you.

And what was always able to rise,
               set with the demise of light.


They found you extinguished,
       in a shallow grave of regret.

Cities have a way of collecting
             the wishes upon stars,

and dousing them out in to
nothingness
            but silence.


I wish upon a star, but all stars die...

I sat on decaying desks of reflection.
       My homework, write a moment
                                of life that meant the most.


But this is a theory of retrospective
       collections, tattered and loosely fitting.
Writing in faded inks of yesterday.


Everything I'd wrote was a failure,
                    never amassing a page of meaning.
I knew I wasn't a graduate of life.

Mostly a D minus in the accomplishments of what
I could have wrote. But instead I just
                   dodged classes and ended up a failure.

Checkmate was the moves that followed me,
Each was noted as if known before I had stepped,
Frustration gained pace upon my fragile self.
Motion seemed stagnant and still,
My life was a dismal stalemate of defeat.

I am not the sophisticated underdog,
I trip and fall through door frames
Always unannounced.

I am the wavering circle,
I give myself away too early in the game
Always a red herring.