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I am as lonely as the night,
unflinching as shadows glide towards me.
My eyes are glued to the blackness
as it focuses my every sense
and watches quietly as I search for nothing
probing for what is not there
and imagining ghosts.
Refugees of memories with nowhere else to go,
Seeking asylum in the canvas of the night sky
where they fill the vacuum
that night creates so methodically within my heart.
That on which we wait so obediently
to celebrate our conquests through day,
as we hide cold beers, chips and salsa from the
grateful as Persephone upon winter’s slow thaw
for the night’s indifferent cool.
Oh night, what are you hiding?
Do not try to assuage my concern by breaking day
for I know as sure as a sunburn on my skin
that there is more to that Sun than meets the eye:
past the bright, warming rays
past the tantalizingly sleepy days;
I can look as far into the Sun as I can the night.
I remain a mystery to me.