Dust

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On lonely nights when
the moon
is absent from the sky,
and all
my distractions are spent.
The sky
so dark even the void feels
approachable.
The room as quiet as the
stars.
I dream about the past in
metaphors
It whispers to me in hushed
alliteration.
Bent close to the curve of
my ear.
Unfastening all its forgotten
secrets.
Dissolving inside of me. I
struggle to
find meaning in yesterday’s
lament.
When I awake the night’s
residue will
find its way to paper, to
text, that
you, my reader, will decipher.
My words carry dust.

-Tosha Michelle