when the peaks
of every setting sun
weave with
the loneliness of the
cities and the streets,
there will be time
for emptiness to settle
in every clouded
mind, in every clouded
when you slowly
sink into the destinations
that you have made,
you leave me unlit,
unwell, alone–
when you hide away
into the places where my
hands could no longer
reach you, all i can do
is to wait for the morning
to come again.
you are a
minuscule sunset–
a tad bit smaller than
the rest,
but the pain brought
by your leave
is incomparable,
my wounds never heal
whenever you