Do you remember when the stars went out and you were the only thing left
shining in the sky?
Could you see it then?
In the mirror of grateful words and tireless conversation,
could you see yourself burning?
The sun will die out.
So I say
when the golden light of the stars begins to
drip
down
to
darkness,
let it be.
You know of their tendencies:
they wax and wane and flame and flame [and
I can not be saved I can not be saved]
save yourself.
please.
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