Number 22

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder how long is far!
Has your light be stolen or what,
Whilst my eyelids down they shut?

Tinkle, crinkle, little star,
Shake that dust off your scars,
Have they ever, ever yelled at you,
"Who am I talking to?!"

Whittle, sprinkle, little star,
Sow the pledges of a racing car,
Of a marriage that finally ends,
Of a show that never commences.

Tremble, brittle, little star,
Don't fall now, stay where you are,
It's your light I cannot bear,
All my skin of you is aware.

Now pause your whims, little star
I swear, this time
I'll pause mine,
And to this night again
I'll sleep just fine.








Frowsy – having a slovenly or uncared-for appearance

She thought Sophie didn’t look that pretty on her wedding day. But she didn’t know that one hour from the ceremony the flowers hadn’t arrived yet and Sophie’s dress ripped on the side, at the height of the shoulder blazes – the place Mark would have covered with his arm while sleeping if the night before they hadn’t quarreled and slept on the opposite sides of the bed.