I have not seen the stars for weeks now.

And it is in the quiet 

Of those muffled nights

That I remember.

In that clouded hush,

In that empty bed;

That is when I recall 

What was, and what used to be.

In the hold of a blanket

With the steady sigh of the wood 

And the stone,

I tell you things.

Little things.

Secret things.

Things that for so long

Have been left unsaid.

By me.

By you.

By us.

By them.

I haven't seen the stars for weeks now.

And it is in the quiet

Of those muffled nights

That I remember.

Until tomorrow.