Apr 17, 2005 14:27
angry constellations throw themselves into necular explosions,
ripping apart the night sky but knowing we never know of the death,
until tomorrows stellar canvas dims softly in hue.
moonlight slowly becoming a main attraction to lovers eyes,
as the stars soon forgotten, are left to remember their bright history.
like the voices of the mind we never listen too.
Caressing your skin and idolizing your mind, I become a suicidal star,
throwing myself into you with passion, careless thought, and dignity,
giving all that I have become to you, hoping to lose myself in your palete of midnight paints.