I seem to have
lost
form and structure
and spark
and fire
and the words
won't come when
I call

Is this what it's
like to be alone?
To be without?

Where are the words
when I need them most?

Her face was blank like the moon.
She was right here but her mind
was far away, across the sky,
maybe the stars,
or just the blackness between.
Her moods were never constant,
but always changing.
The darkness was slowly seeping into
the world around her.
Nowhere to run, she gives into it.
Her body frail and thin, gradually weakening.
She's letting herself give in.

We cannot
rush our healing.
This life is a journey,
and darkness
always
holds
a teaching.
Love is the light
at the end
of the tunnel.
She is there.
She is waiting.
She is never leaving.

the moon is beaming in the dark
with tiny stars as little sparks
it shines with pride, in graceful hues
when night time falls and starts anew

but the moon is kind,
it does not boast
it shines so brightly
to guide, at most

and the moon loves greatly,
it loves the stars
because it lets them shine too
so they are seen from afar