The Starless NothingA Poem by GunMetalThis poem is over 7 years old now. It's probably my oldest poem that I still show people.It’s a nice evening. With the sun gone the light pollution casts a dull glow across the atmosphere. Like it has no business there but nowhere else to be. And as for the stars you won’t see many here. They’ve all escaped the stratosphere. From where I am, I can see the whole city all its splendors softened in my nearsightedness. I’m sitting in a leather chair older than I am. My back porch illuminated by my kitchen window. In front of me glows a plastic pink flamingo. I listen to the crickets scraping their sleepless sonata. They sing at night because the birds do all the singing during the day. On evenings like these they seem like nightly apparitions; Ghosts of a harmonic memory now just remnants of sirens over the barking of dogs. I lean back and look at the near-dark sky scarcely littered with random residual star things casting a lonely radiance through that faded black veil as if wanting to remain, but are being pushed away. The rest must have fallen because from where I am now, I close my eyes and think I might like to die this way. Peaceful, with singing and light all around me. The big twist ending being that I was alive the whole time. We all get like this I suppose. At least, I hope so. I want moments like this to be important. To know that it’s not always nothingness above me and that there are still stars somewhere. In my mind, like a slow breeze She lingers. Wandering into my thoughts heavy with sighs and lasting. I wonder, as I often do how I can write her into poetry. Some words are beyond me and even at my best I fall just short of describing what she means to me. She is an anthology of speechlessness. I know the words are out there. I gave her a Christmas card once. Inside was a note. A short message, written in prose. I was taking the chance to prove that I don’t care about being embarrassed by the way that I feel about her. I don’t remember what I wrote. I know it was really lame. But it was honest. Words written by shaking hands. I suppose it must have been charming somehow. Looking up at the sky but after a moment I see that they are airplanes, and I smile like the victim of some sort of celestial prank. I watch it slow glide in and out of view through the blurry silhouette of a tree before closing my eyes and imagining (Of all things) being abducted by aliens. Being swept away from the earth looking through a large window watching our little blue, hazy planet getting smaller And smaller And smaller And like reverb in the back of my mind I hear “Come Sail Away. Come Sail Away.” The last thing I see before venturing off into the starless nothing, like a slow breeze, is her face. Just as silent, as the surviving constellations but clear as crystal- sharp as shrapnel. I open my eyes, back on my porch again. In a black leather chair, older than I am. Heavy with sighs. I try again to find words but they're not here. They're not even this. But, it’s a comfortable evening nonetheless. © 2012 GunMetalAuthor's Note
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Added on February 5, 2008Last Updated on June 19, 2012 AuthorGunMetalWish You Were Here, Alta Loma, CAAboutFirst off, if you have a Tumblr, feel free to follow me with the link up there next to my picture. Also, My Twitter. ------------------------------------------------- Find me somehow. My name .. more..Writing
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