My Canvas

Dust on my

Charcoal

Canvas.

Just brush it off

A night of peace

A galaxy of stars.

An attempt at an imperfect perfection.

But I wipe it away, anyway.

My constellation is too dangerous

For anyone else.

So I observe my night heaven with light pollution

And diminish my stars.

And I'm just a canvas

A Blank,

Empty,

Canvas.

Now, look at what we have done.