Into stars, and the night sky,
Our conscience floats,
Rubber soled shoes squeak,
As our thoughts speak,
Soliloquy, monologue,
Must say, what a dog,
I have been.
Casting webs,
And drawing graces,
Just to pull her glances.
Into darkness we look,
You dance, I read my book.
Pull my words from out of my head,
Which is better,
The words that are dead?