It gets too quiet some nights I can hear the moon make love to you. There are tired tears at times while your favorite song plays. Tired, resigned to your absence.
Nostalgia keeps me writing little meaningless poems. Do stars remind you of love letters and promises? Not empty, not broken, but sabotaged by our ideas of forever. Forever is not always eternity. Sometimes it’s five years or a day, a nonverbal exchange with a stranger. Isn’t time too infinite, even extravagant to want only one forever? Maybe our forever ended before our idea of it.
Do our stars still allow you flirt with the idea of love? Do one shilling coins remind you of priceless moments?
Some nights when the darkness suffocates, God reads me poems. I write some of them.