Where Nothing Lies
The pillow screams
against my eyes’ attempt to smother
the severity of their plight. We have
played this scene too many times to see.
The ending is cold and clichéd. To hell
with the moon and its silvered fortune. I am
its forgotten daughter, tortured
by the sound of my own
name. I cannot dream myself
solid. So I sink
through the seams
of these perfect
ly unsoiled sheets.