as the sun drowns in the bright blue ocean
the blistering stars resurrects
and paints itself upon the blank black canvas.
the reflection of the white burning balls of gas
makes them rethink their worth.
oh, my heart tears it's self apart just
imagining the thought that the ocean makes the galaxies feel inferior.
if only the galaxies knew how hollow the
ocean would feel,
here on the ground without it being filled
with the reflection of the breathtakingly
beautiful night sky.
YOU ARE READING
Motel
Poetrywhat is a book other than a motel where I check my thoughts in and you check them out? a collection of poems I wrote but never published.
