Every Page

I let the beast tear to shreds
the sheets of pure white on my bed.
The snow fell in tangent
and spilled through the attic
and froze like soft beads on my head.
And I dreamed that there were ghosts in his eyes
as conspicuous as the sun in rainy skies.
And they haunted some shadow
that filled the well until overflown
and the rims of his lids swelled as he cried.

I stole a glance from my book,
and pondered some thought that he took.
I forget what I knew
and forsake lowering my view,
I’m stolen by that sweet, broken look.
And I watched the sun flicker out
and the butterflies flittered around,
before a fleet to the sky
to become the stars in his eyes
with wings beating soft without sound.

And I saw a harp by the place
where the fire burned bright and erased
the things he threw in,
every nightmare, every dream,
every part of his past, every page.

Wish Upon a Star

In morning’s dawn, across the sky,
a tiny light, no stranger to my eyes.
A silly-spun monopoly
of all the wishes denied to me.
And the chariots of silver veil
sputter behind a still-sun hail
where might a moment be built to last
that wishes are wished upon a broken past.

And stolen a kiss upon my lips
that mattered more than this.
As if this night is more than before,
but how could I wish for more?

I cannot fall to plea of heart; nor that which could give by no true star.