lacrimae lunaris

The moon was so alive last night,
cast shadows strong as firelight,
pressing me to with all her might,
and so, I thought of you.

The moon won't listen to my pleas,
she slips soft through the arms of trees,
whispers across the the cold night breeze,
your features, tinted blue.

The moon's magnetic midnight light,
drew me towards the window, bright,
to view a world glowing pure white,
where we have no reason to fight

our feelings; we are lovers here,
out in this city of nights clear,
our desire free on snowy piers,
or streets drenched in moon's tears

of light, plain as what's wrong and right,
or the paper on which I write,
fierce as a child's grip on a kite..
which slips, and falls into the night.


we can't survive here, try we might,
hiding from questions, wrong or right,
too much to lose, too hard to fight
the bite of sirens; dawn's first light.

x