The midnight of fallen stars

I hold on to every midnight thing, whispered soft in my ear.

The return home, is like a fluff of cotton candy
unwinding to a finger tip, searching for a pulse
I find only memories, on the slick top of this road

I hear your dream song. I write every note on my skin

The broad silver sides of monsters in the midnight deep,
swim the shoreless lanes, carving canyons with their lace-light wake,
They tear the night river, like lamp light broken on a mirror road's silver bones

This midnight road, is my river of fallen stars, flowing through the dark wood

The rainy windows bare a kaleidoscope of empty malls and slumbering towns
Echoes of the places we shall see, fingers knit, eyes upon each other, safe
Echoes of times we have tasted, lips curved, parted into smiles from our last kiss

Querida, your voice is in my head, and the endless rolling night is my body
frayed like the edges of a simple cloth
tattered and scattered by summer storm
until I am only a candle flame. . .
that is all there ever really was,
the center of me, that longs for the center of you. . .
Let us be light.