there’s a corner of the terrace,
the rooftop of my once-upon-a-time-soul,
where i sketched your outline in chalk
as best as i could remember

i lay there sometimes on chilly evenings

curling up against your paved stone limbs
hugging scraped knees to my chest
and meeting the gaze of every star in the damn sky
imagining their glow is your eyes looking back at me
and the bitter wind on my cheeks
is only your softness breathing me to sleep.

now you are as cold as the floor i rest on
hard like concrete

and
quiet as the twilight
sharp as the iron grate
and
empty like the streets below me

looking for your face in the stars just won’t work:
you surrendered the light in your eyes
and i don’t think it’s coming back.