deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Stars
I watch the stars
I don’t suppose they watch me back
I wonder if the stars make sounds
Or if they burn silently
I imagine they ache
Like a fresh bruise or a healing bone
I don’t think they bleed
Perhaps they just sob
What beautiful spots of flame
Burning and aching in a fiery flash of light
They are momentary
They are temporary
They are dying
And already dead
I imagine the stars watch me back
I wonder if they wonder too
I don’t suppose they watch me back
I wonder if the stars make sounds
Or if they burn silently
I imagine they ache
Like a fresh bruise or a healing bone
I don’t think they bleed
Perhaps they just sob
What beautiful spots of flame
Burning and aching in a fiery flash of light
They are momentary
They are temporary
They are dying
And already dead
I imagine the stars watch me back
I wonder if they wonder too
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