Poem A Day: Nothing
What will you be in the morning?
After the passion eats away at your soul
And the restless night whispers sweet toothless nothings.
Perhaps you'll learn of the unspoken treasure buried deep below layers of smooth tissue and doubt
If lucky, though few are, you'll get back the gift of sight, the one you enjoyed thoughtlessly while skipping rope and climbing that favorite tree.
Most likely you'll get nothing.
The same nothing you would have had without the loathing black seductrice of a sky, moon. Without the lustful stars.
The same nothing as when you wake up, cool and damp from a dream you almost... but can't remember. Incomplete, but not missing. There's nothing to miss when you can't remember.