Woods

That night when you left, half way through,
I stayed and looked up, though face down.
Unknown sounds were my lullaby, as they surrounded me,
From behind dark trees and lonely wreathes.

The rustling remnants were my bed,
My blanket only the winter chill,
It's breath passing over me like a final sigh,
The decision made. So I lay,

As what was alive rusts
Into tawny distrust.
But I thought that it was pure,
But when the moon rose,
And when the rain fell,
It burnt down to the core.
Something so natural, but now unsure.

Feeling as if I should be somewhere else.
But I inhale the nocturne of silence,
Self-induced in my coma, I felt the need,
To turn over.

And I could see, through the tinted leaves,
Or at least, that's what I thought they were.
And in between the branches, hands
Holding me apart, the stars that keep me together.
Only every few seconds or so
Would the wind brush away the arms,
And I could see their glimmer,
Through the trembling fingers,
Through the clouds caress,
But with time the gaps become thinner,
And now I can only guess.