3 AM – Stargazing
May 14, 2021
In the bottomless sea of spilled ink,
the stars are drowning,
some lost beneath damp blots.
Below, in the coldness of crumpled sheets
– between the creases of folded blank pages
buried the burned out hands.
Candles wasted in the witching hour
The world goes by, no eyes watch the lost spirit
crawling underneath this skin – stargazing on a pale Wednesday.
The flame flickers countless times,
when, at last, smoke swirls into the sky
and nothing is left behind but a suffocating scent
and this endless night.