Untitled 44

We wrap ourselves tightly in electrical distance,
Hiding layers of scars beneath secret sheets
Of lonely hearts and anxious longing,
Pinching our eyes shut to pretend
Love could ever really mean anything.

I used to reach with trembling uncertainties,
Burrowed firmly in think holes of paradigms,
Fervently pushing through the opaque black echo of night sky,
Tucking stars into the corners and edges,
My deepest desires and fevered yearning
Pressed against the center of the universe
And I named it prayer.

But the shallow whispers
Of empty fulfillment
Resonated coldly,
Tugging at amber sunsets
And winter sunrises,
Leaving only the numb sensation
Of threadbare guilt
And novocaine shame
While watching daydreams
Effortlessly float into the twilight,
Twisting into vapor,
Fading across the shimmering sheen of silver ethereal;

Crystallized lullabies splintering into the hushed silence of icy raindrops.