Is it love?
I ask myself each morning,
Do I trust?
Him? Myself?
My feelings?

Perhaps it is or perhaps it's not,
Whatever it is,
It's beautiful.

“i love you”
those words
                      d
                         r
                           i
                             p
                               p
                                 e
                                   d
                                      from his lips
i believed his deceitful manner
his charisma, it was alluring

Why doesn't it come through the window, like it did?
The moon?
With it's white night thoughts?
Pouring in
Now, pouring out
Why don't you cry to me?
Now, I see the tears welling,
but, a steely-eyed anger holds them back.

I can tell you a thousand things.
Your hair, a black sky I look out on tonight
And where is it?
The moon?

I can tell you a thousand things.
You are my beautiful boy.
You are my beautiful boy.

Where is it?
The moon?