Your
wilting smile won't go
u n n o t i c e d
beyond the perishing night sky,
like leaf particles from last fall,
I'll hold you close,
I won't let you scatter -
I can't.
The silence is too loud,
too loud
for me to believe that you
are simply "fine";
I'll sit with you till darkness shatters,
fish the stars with you
and everything beyond
(and you know that),
so
tell me,
tell me,
tell me . . .
I'm worried.
[May 27th-2015]
(Haven't written poetry in so long, I might've lost it.)
