This isn't Me...But it's a poem.

Hollow strings of thought hung over her head
like a dead body.
Bright light escaped through the paper lanterns
and shined across the sky,

dimming the stars.

She asked herself why
the edge of darkness adopted
its being
at the dock of her old, wooden
bay.

With empty thoughts
stolen
from the stars,

she caressed her
self
in her arms
and wept.