Reflections at Midnight

Maybe the fortune teller was right;
hands hanging just above my head  
as she searched my soul and read  
the tea leafs    
(green with envy)  
   
Channeling secrets beyond the clouds  
held aloft by angels wings... 
Maybe something in the song that they sing  
told her I was special  
   
Maybe the stains across my aura;  
(left from the caress of an invisible hand  
from an early age  
that granted the God-given gift  
of shame)  
don’t make me any lesser  
   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Why do we hurt the people we love,  
(or do we just love the people we hurt)  
as they smother us with affection?  
What is our motivation?  
   
I’ve watched the sunrise  
from the furthest edge    
of the opposite horizon    
(dripping in sunset);  
eyes locked tightly on the end of the night  
while restless heart bites at sleepless mind  
in a tug of war fight  
of anxiety and depression  
   
   
Moonlight is only sunlight  
Reflecting off an endlessly falling rock  
   
Sunlight is only starlight  
seen from extremely close up  
   
   
Lightning blinds the sky with flashes,  
filling the night like a paparazzi  
exposing the many poses    
of my candid midnight loneliness  
   
I am haunted by the ghosts of her affection,  
Remnants hanging from my soul;
Flayed flesh hanging from naked bones,  
Black birds pecking at festering holes  
Digging deep for the maggots that feed  
On what is left of my heart  
   
I don’t remember how to love  
(I'm not sure I ever knew)