Lost

 I am lost in a million stories scattered in the sky, trying to form a constellation. A broken star, somewhere, calls out my name and amber sparks fill the night sky as every eye wishes upon it. I breathe in the dreams. I exhale stardust.

The moon chimes in with a melody, and I put on an orchestra concert for the broken souls. As the music turns sombre, they string in a melody and I curtain the sky before I start raining heartbreaks too.

The dark whispers secret of how he is often hollow, and I trace his velvet skin, staining it with galaxies. Neon lights and scarlet hues run wild, and curious eyes travel far and high to fill Dark’s void. He smiles now, quite often.

I am always shattered, scattered and dead. I am a million stories trying to breathe through everyone again. I am a free verse poetry you could bend into rhymes, but I’ll still be broken. I am a starry night beyond Van Gogh’s art. I am what dream, sorrow and hope is made of.