It’s you…Stardust.

It’s always been you.

I don’t know what to make of these thoughts, that stir my mind, set it ablaze you’d say.

For a soul so unknown, you love fire, like the air you breathe.

It will be ten o’clock in fifty-eight minutes.

I’ve had a cup of tea for supper and you are probably watching National Geographic, stretched out like a big cat on that brown couch you have.

You’ve had a cigarette for supper, but you will fix yourself something to eat, because you know how to whip up a meal when you’re motivated, and nothing motivates you like hunger.

I keep talking to myself, my words bounce back to me, these four walls know more about my emotions than I do.

So, I’ll write you another letter before I go to bed tonight.

And it will be something like this, “Dear Stardust…silence.”

Person Lying on Bed Holding Blanket

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