The night sky looks so peaceful, so serene.
But I cannot see the stars that well.
The winter wind whistles through the trees,
Calling.
I lie there, looking from the shadows of my inbetween.
He lies beside me, twirling my hair with his fingers.
I stare at him.
'You don't see do you?'
'See what?' he asks.
The shadows of my inbetween, I whisper.
He looks curious, like I said some that offends.
I stare at my feet. I wring my hands.
He rubs my back, trying to feel what isn't there.
What isn't there is lost.
He doesn't know.
His light has no darkness, no hurt.
He is pure.
'What's the inbetween,' he asks.
'What's the inbetween?'
Where my soul sleeps in the numbness of its morality.
I whisper my answer again.
He sighs, and looks into my eyes.
'Don't worry,' he says 'I see.'
"See what,' I cry, 'See what?'
He wipes my eyes.
'The shadows of your inbetween,' he whispers.
But I cannot see the stars that well.
The winter wind whistles through the trees,
Calling.
I lie there, looking from the shadows of my inbetween.
He lies beside me, twirling my hair with his fingers.
I stare at him.
'You don't see do you?'
'See what?' he asks.
The shadows of my inbetween, I whisper.
He looks curious, like I said some that offends.
I stare at my feet. I wring my hands.
He rubs my back, trying to feel what isn't there.
What isn't there is lost.
He doesn't know.
His light has no darkness, no hurt.
He is pure.
'What's the inbetween,' he asks.
'What's the inbetween?'
Where my soul sleeps in the numbness of its morality.
I whisper my answer again.
He sighs, and looks into my eyes.
'Don't worry,' he says 'I see.'
"See what,' I cry, 'See what?'
He wipes my eyes.
'The shadows of your inbetween,' he whispers.
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