Waiting for me to come back

The silence of a heavy night
has a way of settling on my skin like stale perfume.
I lay awake, that infernal ringing in my ears
drowning out the last of my sensibility.

Outside, stars punch holes in the sky and scatter like fireflies.
The moon is busy someplace else and with each passing train
 that rumbles through this godforsaken valley,
I wish just one could take me there.

Too soon, too soon, the sun will shatter my dark;
if I had the cash to buy a small Beretta,
the kind that fits a woman's hand,
I would blow away my broken heart.

Somewhere out there is a man
with the moon in his eyes and poem in his heart.
He'll find me again,
where daylight turns to dust.

We'll light up a candle
and let the darkness follow us home.


(Artwork by Atroshenko)