To S.

Don’t kid yourself, soul,

You can’t be sweet, you can’t be blue,

Dear friend rankled by creatures

No one sees when they stand in arms

Against meddling colours, nosy lights-

See, the moon has chosen,

She’ll stand on her own, as she hates

Their swank, gives ‘em the cold shoulder,

So please don’t shout about your insomnia,

Burn with wrath, free your breath, the air’s so clear,

It reminds you we are never alone

Among the sharp taste of limbs, those woody smells-

Just be careful if light falls down,

Let words lead you through this mess,

And you, God, don’t hide from me,

When the morning light busts her enemy,

A blue candlelight, when the morning drive

Upsets the night-

Just give her shards of love and affection,

Albeit demise is an artist who still forgets

How to listen, how to share her blue hours,

When silence, his many paths,

A blue still cold await her souls,

And a starving poetry is on the run

All over the skies.