Picture by Rita Simson Fernandez


Stars do not come to me anymore.

I look up and all I see is cold concrete

and I yearn with all of my horribly hurt

excuse of a heart to let the night sky

into my soul and let it soothe me like

honey on burnt skin but my wounds

aren’t skin deep; if you jump into

one of them, you will never stop falling;

Hold on to the ledge if you still want

to feel the trenches of my pain,

No, I don’t charge; You can peek

into my heart and maybe take a piece

for keepsakes; how else do you think

I lost so much of myself?

I want to kiss pages of poetry onto

your skin but forgive me if I leave

traces of blood along the way.

Maybe I’ll be a dried up rose

stuck to your pages until the red

doesn’t exist anymore and I’m just

a dying remnant of my soul but you,

You are my whole book.

The entire thesis of my being.

It doesn’t begin or end,

It’s just circles of you and I.

It’s just You and I.


You can follow the author on Instagram at: @rita.fernandez.poetry