the youngest wish of my brother.

My brother once told me that if I whistled at the northern lights

they would take my soul away

I’ve contemplated,

I’m the evening of dark times.

To whistle so loudly that the world would stop to

Hear the sound of soullessness.

Green and blue are cyan to my eyes. No matter the stars

Surrounding the movement of shadows.

Your heart reaches for stars and the sun blocks out the


Even though, after time, it’s

a broken soul surrounded by blue. And the shades of red

affect you.

Dancing in the dark gets old,

For I am weak too.

The green tiles of sun abruptly

Shine. Effortless in pain and numb again.

To your wishes

Of soullessness. And

also mine.


©Dawson Lehmann



About dawsoleh

poet. writer. student. hipster. cowboy. friend.
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