i heard the night whisper tunes,
like keys of a broken piano
and i, captive of such melancholic aria,
must bow to its unwritten verses.

i read the night like a bedtime story,
i become a wide-eyed child once again,
innocent and curious
beneath it's cool, dark sheets.

i watched the world from where i stood,
hulking buildings, like sentinels
always protected me from falling stars
--false prophets that they are.

i always thought you were a star.
when i looked up to your apartment
and see a flicker of light that moved
to and fro in what seemed like
a cloud of hazy smoke.

and then i'd go to the very spot
where you always threw your cigarette butts
and stayed there, contemplating
wether or not to pick them up.

i had to read between the lines to see you.
and every time i read my bedtime story,
you become more visible and then...
you were the only thing that made sense
even though i never quite understood.

you have become my favorite line,
i recite you, chant you, exhale you
like a paramount lullaby.
and every single time i whisper you,
i see you shiver in my dreams.

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