“Aubade”

Aubade

the work of whispers were your wings, as you slipped out the door, into the sad, blue night, into the white noise of moonlight.

the sun was born to which i died, as long as shadows carry me, i will find you in all the midnight skies i see – my cry is endless, past all the midnight skies i scream, but i will find you, ever-endless.

at the end of days, who will remember who we were? in your eyes, the moon makes sorrow beautiful. though i’d slain a thousand stars, the thousandth ray spoke, “no one knows; you have but to close your eyes.”