Insomniac

There's a man made of stars 
With the eyes of an Aries 
He spoke in a dialect only the sky could understand
He would whisper in the night
With a violent twinkle in the air
He would tell stories of his scars 
Orion's Belt, The Leo, The Virgo
For hours on end I would
Listen to his musings 
Never stirring from my window
Simply listening as the night dragged on and the moon tiredly ignored him 
He would  reach across the skies 
With his fiery fingertips 
I, drugged with his presence, could not sleep, 
Would it have done me any good? 
For he was to leave soon 
He was the voice in the stillness 
I could waste my pretty ears on 
So I did not bother as he continued his tales
Soon he burned the skies so much 
The sun began to form
As the moon took his break 
I wept as he left to his daily isolation 
Leaving me tired and withdrawn 
They call me an insomniac
they say I'm addicted to him 
The man made of stars 
With the eyes of an Aries