song of blues (it does not have to always make sense)

i hear stars in your voice

dreams that call and shake their shiny hair

sparkles that fly and circle around

cold lights promise the sun

and whisk you away in their phantom embraces

you try to hide the impatience with glitter of your own

golden sequins and feathers of snow crystals

rope me with hope

your voice wonderful paints images

of a life that could be if you don’t get your own,

i know you were never there, but that glitter

ah that glitter still promises

and the stars of your voice

pulse through me with their cold shine

gleams of never-to-be future.

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