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.”