As an imagined moon caressed my eyelid-covered eyes to sleep,
as fictive stars shone just for me in my personal dark...

Words flew like ice on ice deep inside my inner winter-dark.

Looking inwards I saw only dark lights and lit dark,
outwards... the eyelids were too scared to brake their cover.

A momentary gasp from somewhere deep inside my faintest memories broke through,
it spilled out and spelled out that what ails is never comparable...

never breathable... never true... unless it really is...
.. but it never is

Is this what this is?

Is this all that it\'ll ever be?

I\'m not good enough...

How do I even breathe without breaking apart...?

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