Good Morning. Good Night.

A tale of days past. 

A tale where the world was the girl and the girl was the world. 

Flowing hair and bright eyes looked at the distorted heavens.

A symphony of the ordinary days reflected on her little windows of sunset. 

Good morning

Is what she said one more time. 

Good morning.

Is what no one was there to listen.

What no one could listen to. 

Because she was the world and the world was devoid of heart.

Now, what shall we do today Mr. Sun?

The only one who could give her warmth.

The only one who watched over her.

But these days weren't forever.

Not forever.

The stars were coming.

Good Night.

Were the words that reached no one.

Good Night.

Were her whispers as another day came to a close.