for Vincent

“the sadness will never end.”

I know you feel it, more than just the dull ache—

your sadness is you,

so much that were you to drench your very heart in yellow paint

you could not get the happiness inside.

And then you have your days, too,

when it is not so dark:

when the stars unfold before you and

galaxies draw patterns across your heart,

when the gold of ripening wheat is too much for you.

But even the burning gold, even the limitless galaxies,

even these cannot keep the monsters caged.

And so, under the bursting veins of the universe you fall,

a smear of darkness across the gold fields you loved.

All is night.

I hear the song of your sadness,

see the relief in your eyes as the bullet pierces your heart.

But only listen, and I will sing to you in return, that though you will be sleeping,

even the darkness will not be empty, not anymore,

for piercing beyond the veil are stars:

your final, starry night.