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