Hmmm... Nameless...

Gently moving,

Making no sound

In the leaves

Caught in the crosshairs of autumn.

Nothing stirs

And air,

She is an apple

That will not fall

From its tree

And into my lungs.

I look up

And find the trace remains

Of stars,

Just past the bare canopy

They are an alien map,

A language unknown

To these trails.

I find myself lost in them,

Them and their standards.

I consider speaking,

But there is nothing

Left to say…

I find the laces of my heart

Drawn up tight

Against the bitter cold

Of this winter that is

This emptiness,

Lacking everything

Simply because

I need nothing.

Opening up my eyes,

I see nothing

In this quiet picture

Of soft light and smooth shadows

Carved on the underside

Of my stairwell,

But my attic has sunk

Into the abyss of floorboards,

And taken me with it.