Night sets across the landscape of my eyes. A blank sheet of deep blue that imprisons the subject that stands ahead. Rain breaks, as my eyes try to seal themselves, but there's no such thing as watertight eyes--regardless of how mystifying I may appear, I am just as you, and have no magic in me. Seeping out in determination, I let you hold out your palm to catch them from their suicide plunge. I let you collect them till Day rises from Night's grave, so you can give yourself a sun-shower in the heat of the birthed morning--as I sleep calming depleted of the substance that you use to clothe the pink shell of your skin.
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