Night Falls

Night falls,
pressing down upon my chest
like a Sisyphean boulder
with the weight of an absent lover
who no longer wants me.

Those curtain clouds
crushed-velvet, funeral black
veiling the third-quarter moon
look like the smoke from a brush fire;
they are devoid of any hope.

Our star has died,
extinguished by indifference,
depleted, darkening each day.
The fusion of that first kiss failing
to fuel a third decade.