Zenith

Thin silver slivers of midnight moonlight
sliding through silk hanging high
on windows I can’t reach
to open,
needing to free the stale air
of your dead love,
needing to embrace
the cool whispers
of an approaching tomorrow,
when I will forget
that your name
lives forever in the protagonist
of my favourite book,
and you will forget
the scent of my freshly washed hair
on the cotton of your
blue pillowcase,
and we will forget that for
a short, bright time
in an otherwise
achingly dark world,
we found the ecstasy of existence,
we found the zenith
of us.

Original Work: Kelsey H. 2/12/16

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