by KhuzaimaAli
There are times when
the moon; tame and slight
lingers just a little longer,
and immediately, I await
a permanent midnight.
Instead of the sky twirling
into itself with shades
of purple and red
--that honey tint
on a velvet sheet--
and the clouds look
as if a child has been
traipsing through the snow
I long for a better darkness,
one that I have a name for
but can't really remember
no
no
NO
There is ruthlessness to
the emergence of dawn;
an arrogance of piety--
forcing light on us the way it does.
A kinder sun would wait.
It would let the dying,
incorporate itself into the unyielding
as seamlessly as possible
and burn out without trace.