there is a shiver every so often
in the silence of the nights,
long sighs that graze
the tip of the moon that belligerently shines
over the pain
and teach us not to shudder over a new moon
because its pitch black
is only a temporary fix before
i can whisper a million thoughts
onto my pillowcase
to cushion my mind beneath my sleep,
but there is always the risk
of facing these nightmares sleepless
for we all know thoughts will forever channel in.
these are the pieces we have to bear,
things that once never mattered
therefore never hurt as much before.
it is time to stop
and ask ourselves
if magic really lasts forever
in the palm of poetic fate,
or perhaps, how long
because it can never be the only solution
to what reality tries to strike on us.
and it is time to stop
believing that fate will work itself out
because things are just meant to be -
because they obviously aren't,
when our ties no longer heal pain
but binds it tighter around us.
we can only stare at the light
until our eyes go blind,
and remember why it shines so bright.