Blankets of rusted knifes

Im alone for the time,
being a hundred minutes hours and days
Your eyes will shut out the light,
being told the darkness will blind you
And secrets,
lay shattered in taped pieces on the ground
The open book,
tells it a story in monographic pictures
No color,
displaying and proposing imagination
Inspiration,
the white dot on your heart felt apology
And the leaves,
well... they began to fall long before
your eyes mimicked the twinkle of the stars.