When the night sky confessed….

I was never a speck of dust
but a journal of those scattered souls
who poured their siphoned poetries
in an attempt of re-writing their fairytales.
My 3am sapphire blank pages
caped with teary storm
had a funny way of
seeping sadness in sleepless souls.
A hugh blue hue carpet
I possessed at ascended heights
that didn’t kill but kept them
afloat on mayhem of daydreams.
It was me who cried hard
but the people below, the empaths,
silently tasted my sad whispers
and instead took a rain check
on their dreams.

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