I am awake

I am awake,
bored and tired.
My face
is pale, moon.
It's not made of pearl,
I am not beautiful,
I am nothing,
or no one.
I sing oblivion
with the eyes of a
burnt out star.  

Where are you, Poet?
Where do you dream? Where do you sing?
Have you and your lyrical lines
lost your path
and direction?
I no longer hear
your estranged words.
Was I not
your Muse, your Woman,
your Bride?
Where are you, Poet? 

I am abandoned,
strewn among my sheets
and the white moonlight.
Life is just a day
and I crave my twilight.
I do not want to awaken.
I sing slumber,
sorrow, and my fear,
and I long for oblivion,
the dark oblivion,
and I want only you.

Oh night, you are a sweet prison.

“The lines of love”,
Acrylic on canvas (2016)
by Francesca Cannatella