129/365: A Solitary Unit of Stars' Aftermath

night feets

It is the place of anesthesia,
gormless and indiscrete,
and the moments in the dark alone
when you look out into it
and know the whole, hollow weight
of being an only one,
a solitary unit of stars' aftermath
crucified under a blanket,
that leaves you wondering
who will roll the stone away for you.
When you have spent three decades
vigilant enough, but anxious,
leaning into the hope
that the story,
as it is usually told,
will offer you the same affection,
there is not much else to do
but wait it through.

#365poems at Schmutzie.com

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