The Moon makes me cry. Every night
she turns her pockmarked face
to somewhere dark, seeking
with starving eyes & seething
with tight-lipped jealousy for the stars
who shine by themselves. She will never
be her own, always
depending on another,
consumer of candy prayers
dripping gold onto an adoring planet
of sugar blister tongues.
Moon Beauty: a reminder
that comes in dead skin and dust.
Choke back your tears
& pretend to glow.
Oh, that was chilling, especially those last lines. Love it!
That’s beautiful.
Amelia, what a distinctive voice!
Thank you so much, everyone! Your feedback makes my heart happy :)
You give human qualities that enhance your words…
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