Can you see the sunrise, my love,

Or does it seem to you like an instant of color

Spilt across the pale sky

Stolen by the light of day a moment later?

Is the night as long for you as it is for me

As long as a lonely winter, and longer still,

Or does it pass in a single beat of your immortal heart?

Can you bear witness to a shooting star,

Or does it wither and die for you

Before it has a chance to bloom across the sky in all of its brilliance?

Can you see the stars from here, my love

Or is it all just white noise,

Faded points of light living and dying

Like the passing of the seasons,

While you go on, unchanging,

Immutable and eternal?


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A poet driven by the quill, a dreamer of impossible dreams, a lover of that which the world has deemed unlovable. We're all stories in the end. This is mine.

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