The sun settles like embers, the night rises like smoke. These skies choke with frost and stars, all freeze and sparkle. Lights so bright they lie about the horizon. Lights so bright they crowd into every idea, making sport of the truth of distance. All things fuel when you are the flame, everything an ashtray when the fire is your life. Something burns down, and the day leaves you alone.
It is so cold my fingers are screaming. I write these letters like it was my only cause. To say such things out here alone, as if there was any other way. To speak such things out aloud, as if to risk them being real. The figments I desire hold such sway, the weather doesn't know how to keep them at bay. Dusk falls like everything else. Your light like hope, so distant. Your light like stars, maybe gone though I still see it.
It is such a sad sad story it has all but been extinguished. It is such a sad sad story you have all but lost the spark. Everything you've said and done, transformed in silence and gossamer ash. Everything you've said and done, exhaled darkly into the star leavened atmosphere. The moon melted down to an idiot grin. A life left, bereft of love and passion and hope. The fire so low it is only heat you see.