untitled (idk)

Brewing storms, monsoons of sorts,
Contorted heart and empty thoughts
Bridge the fissure in this serene nightscape.
Naivety, you see, as the stars could be
twinkling dreams, drunken hopes
or a sign that these sights in skies
have sighed years ago, so why strain your eyes?
Because concerns concerning contrite
time only gives glaring sighs as she
shares useless things like thoughts of why and we
which are worthless when I never fully
gave in.
And neither did she.
Thus dampened grief festers
since wants and needs seldom meet
And clearly, something was missing.
Thus I thrust, wrong foot forward or what, to
Starboard, port or whatever goes towards
This broken levee flanking former coddled dreams;
their ebb and flow following the pouring skies. While these
shielded stars, obscured and viewed like
behind grubby glass, defiantly shine and fret not
because this storm too shall pass.
*that was therapeutic*