My Last Love

Maybe tonight isn't the night, for prose and promises. Maybe tonight is for the silence of lost voices, all clamoring thunder, whispered wind. The magic of your starlight remains lost on me, but to salve the sting of memories. Strengthening resolve in the face of such, to remain my own, retaining courage and self. The need to belong to you, possessed as it were, your trinket, never stronger. I've known this before, beautiful lies from poisonous tongue. No such worries now, all washed away by tears shed long before you. You're my last hope before dark. My last chance for peace.