Storm Clouds

Heavy drops of ink
Settle on my skin,
Midnight blackness caressing me,
Locking me away within
This world of imaginary love.
Old-fashioned parchment paper,
Scrawled with promises of hope
Burns in a candle flame,
Disappearing into transient smoke.
Little crystal teardrops
Gather on the mirror
While the nightingale sings
His mournful song.
And this pen writes the words
That I could never say,
The words to shatter my world
And break you to pieces.
But the truth is
That I remember well
A magical point in time,
When starlight filled the skies,
And now I see nothing but
The leaden gray of a storm
On the not-so-distant horizon.