Soft taps of rain drops, is the moon crying, did she steal
his glimmer
a natural thief fleeing with a beating heart
the world’s a two-way mirror reflecting beauty and pain
egressing into solitude taught her that. She’ll grow green roses
with her tears and watch them die. Sleep is another death, a dream
a replaying of broken scenes of loss. She’s shivering under covers
fingering the sharp skin yearning for that old touch. She’ll spit clouds
to cover the sunlight since at night she’s able to create
happy shadows.
Collapsing into bed staring at the beams of light cycle
through
on a train shooting for far away field running aimlessly
that intense anxiety shaking thrashing pounding
turning to capture the sleeping hills and bonfires
smoke signals for the gods
slowly ascending past the sky
to remind them what love looks like.
