February 1, 2012

• A cold night

  I dripped out of the lives
  of people who didn’t even know I was in them.
  Our bones will regrow themselves
  once we find a body to live in.

  Sleepy angels by my bed
  would tell me beautiful stories that are not true.
  Of how they are all fallen stars;
  but tonight I stare at the icy moon.

  I still visit the graveyard
  where I bury all the lives I’ll never lead.
  My imagination lets go,
  and another ghost of mine is freed.

  Another angel died tonight.
  I buried him in the cold under a moonlit sky.
  I walked away a lonely man.
  But until every grave is filled, my hope it will not die.

  • 6:35 pm
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