This is not about you.

When the flickering lights fade at last 
into the night sky,
and the cool breeze of autumn creeps silently
into its ditches and alleys,
calm descends in earnest upon 
those dreaming exiles of a decayed existence.
An eerie silence 
deploys her claws unto the world outside, 
forcing all subordinates to abandon
their noble quests 
and succumb to an encompassing, personal denial
as memory betrays an apathetic fate to the dreamers.
Thought, like all prisoners, 
drags its weary bones along that deep, black highway. 
Not searching for an escape so much as an answer. 
And as the magnitude of the universe 
converges upon itself,
causing a sudden and grand collapse,
all that I can do is sit here 
in the yellow lamplight
and think of you