[ i. in this valley of dying stars ]
.
I'm cold and tired
One day,
I think,
I'll close my eyes and never-ever
Open them again.
( I wish that day were today. )
I'm sleepless in Seattle,
I can find no comfort in the nest
Of my bedroom
But I can't live with Carly.
She'll start asking
Questions
One day
And I have no answers.
Home is with her and Spencer---
---On her couch, in her kitchen
Eating the food out of the refrigerator
Like I belong there
( I do ).
My mother's house
Is more like a cave,
I think,
With sky lights.
It is where dark meets light, and
Clutter violates Clean's personal space
Like the freaky kid
In Kindergarten who was
Only too eager to give you
A hug and a kiss.
Until I punched him in the face.
I don't think he bothered
Me after that.
The glow-in-the-dark stars ( on my ceiling )
Are fading.
They're not so bright now and some of
The sticky stuff is going away.
Some fell last month
And there's more to come, probably.
Carly would say that it's a sign
We're gonna grow up some day.
( Soon ).
I just remember her helping
Me stick them up there.
At least the outline stays.
Tomorrow's Monday.
Maybe if I don't sleep,
The night won't end so fast.
.
.
A/N: ... So, it seems that I've begun another project. [looks away] I'll try to add a few chapters to this, as I've always wanted to write a narrative of sorts in verse.
Also, blame Snow Patrol and T.S. Eliot. Dx