Here we are
Bored with eachother
Frankly, I couldn't care less
About your day
And how it was a mess
I know you couldn't care less
About mine
Either
Because you never ask
You want to know things
Like where your boots are
Or what time is supper
But not where I learned
How to cook it
We got a tree full with fruits of
Conversations
Yet neither cares to shook it
Overripe fruit
Rotting on the limb
We sit here now
Our light has dimmed
No need for tears
Or blames or angryness
But frankly, however it goes down
It has to go down
Because I can't care any less

How many moons did I really miss?
The big, the bright, the bold, the blue -
the daytime crescent
or a midnight swan?
Did I count them all
on my two hands?
Or was the same moon sat there
all along? Enticing and bewitching those
that dared to take the time away
from all the mundane earthly stuff;
the daily bluff, the soulless bleed.
What if every single moon was new?
And those that basked beneath
the moonshine never light
knew how it's luminosity,
shaped the eye.
If I chased it round the earth
would I see it slowly turn?
Or would I turn myself
to lunacy?