Goodnightly Poem by Lors Dilouley

Stand, don't sit.
I won't leave.
The starless nights call me away the loudest
and as I turn the echoes of your touch retrace my path through the air.
The silvery moon laughs a curse to lovers content to breathe in each others' arms.
but we are few between
The enrichments of your low, sweet voice become my baggage through the dark
...And I am always on a journey in my dreams...
Always the end.
Always departing.
Sit, don't stand.
now hold my gaze as if time has passed away.