A Fading Star

So I sit, under the stars. Gazing out into the city I fathom at the contrasting lights on the two sides of the horizon.

The stars. What a beauty. I reach out to trace a constellation with my finger. And I paint it with my imagination. A dash of fire, a dab of smoke. Looks pretty amazing, nonetheless surreal. The stars look fascinating tonight, glowing through the sky, reminding me of the way your face used to glow when you peered into the same sky. The moon is absent it seems. Understandibly hiding, in fear lest she steals the spotlight from a million other stars. Just like you did. I snap myself out of this mundane contemplation and lower my gaze.

The city lights. Such a chaos. Bustling through these lanes are innumerable souls, some alive, some not. A lighthouse dots the western end of the city, casting it's rays to the unsuspecting boats. The soothing sight of the grand sea is the only sublime visual in the whole scenery.

Sighing a breath I light a cigarette and press it to my lips. They miss your touch. They miss how your skin felt on mine. I inhale the smoke and take that extra bit of air to feel the cold. A familiar pang of pain emerges in my left lung, but I ignore it and go back to my thoughts, slowly drifting into the uncanny feeling of eerie loneliness. These battles fought every night are too hard to win, these tears too precious to be wept. But for now, for this moment, I will stay silent and unhear the whispers.
So I sit, under the stars, taking another puff and letting it out. The smoke escape my lips and so do my life, eventually lulling my eyes to a fix. But I stay silent and gaze at the stars.