untitled

so lie beneath the canopy of night

and wash your hands clean of me

impalpable, unfathomable

the bitter pill you couldn't bring yourself to swallow

i can never be what you want me to be

but i'll never get sick of trying

so long as there are stars above and semi-solid ground below

i'll be here, spilling words across the page

waiting for the night to consume me

for you to wash your hands clean of me

for the ending to a story that never really got started

for the final star to burn out and fade away