Lush Anansi Tales

Wishing on Dead Stars

On skinned knees,
and broken-hearted,
shattered apart by
a foolish gambit made.

How deeply his words betrayed,
my vulnerability,
and his malcontent in love.

 Ah well,
 these things can mend.

Just another flesh wound,
that has already scabbed.

The scar a path to the pain,
which runs beneath,
on a river of my blood cold.

 A fault my own.
 A wish,
I need to learn that shooting stars,
only carry headlight.

 Maybe someday I will learn,
to trust my own essence,
to light my own way, 
to be my own hope.

Yes, 
I trust in hope.
I'm done wishing,
on dead stars for love anyway.

Ian M. S. Royer (C) 2020
Art by James Hackett (C) 2020