I thought about moonlight,
How stars are like glitter to the kiss of the sun,
And it's lips are the moon pursed for love,
As daylight is a echo,
And evening is the sound,
And dawn is the break that takes with it,
The silent stillness in which we are found.

We are locked like silk strands to the tree,
From which all other silk strands can be,
Worms for the food of morbid decay,
I hold your hand in my minds eyes and with my minds voice,
Tell you it's ok,
It's ok to be soft when you're a word,
When it's a last dying word,
It's ok to be bare and open,
Like the wound of the night when day takes it's first slice,
And it's alright when you're nice,
Cause kindness cured my cancer of jaded desperation,
Like fading, faded perspiration,
That came from the kiss that the moon sent from me to you,
And like a badly worded comeback it stuck like glue,
And held on like a metal surface in winter time,
To a tongue who talked too much,
That said too many words,
That were much too hard for the ears that heard,
And that's why you're my bird,
Who sings me morning love songs with your still sleeping breath,
That if I could lie there listening I could be happy breathing death,
I could be satisfied with secondhand oxygen,
If the first hand was your lungs,
Then I could know I am complete,
With the unconscious symphony that you sung,
While I laid there and thought about moonlight.