I cup the moon in my hands
from a safe space
on untamed ground
in a forgotten place.

The moon—
its glow, it lingers,
wrapping soft eggshell hues
around my fingers.

She was built on shattered dreams,
promises frayed at the seams,
wishing wells where hope waits at the bottom,
until the end of a golden summer greets autumn.

She never wanted the weight
of a thousand knives like freight,
all twisting flesh on her back,
circling around a single track.

Still, she runs her fingers along the rips,
collecting light on her fingertips—
a glow in darkness she will bear,
not to be consumed, but always there.

Stain on my neck
the lips that pecked
in the parking lot
night hot
wore that sweater
one with the feather
image on the chest.

Stomach butterflies in flight
you offered me a light
cigarette between teeth
ignited by our heat
forehead sweat streams
you are now
my cigarette daydream.

heart cupped
like begging hands
a cistern for tears
and strings as rope
tying the ache

I’m a homicidal poet,
who breathes coffee like oxygen,
haunts digital wastelands—
until my fingertips bleed pixels
and my pulse hums in binary.

I bury bodies in blank verse,
resurrect them with rhyme.
Sleep for a century.
Repeat.

But I swear—
I’m fine.

Smoldered black roses line your garden,
but I’d plant myself there—
under terrain, dry and bare—
and wait with a parched tongue
until the ash is done
corroding my lungs
from dawn’s burnt sun.

My head turns into a pile of ash
until your fingers flick me.
Smoke billows out—
curling in spirals toward the sky.

You light me up,
place me where you keep your lies—
between your lips,
sometimes held by teeth.

I burn slow for you,
but not fast enough
to chase away the pain
you’re trying to distract from.
Don’t blame me.
I was made to disappear.

Just like the things you tried
to hold onto,
but instead, cling onto me—
and I, too, eventually leave.

But parts of me linger.
A nicotine ghost on your tongue,
haunting your attempts to quit me.

I’m just a cigarette, though...
What do I know?

I dropped love
into a pit of infinity,
watched it fall—endlessly.
A shadowed epiphany:
I had loved you infinitely.

In the shadows of a dead city,
where feet tap cracked pavement
and broken fluorescents blink,
there hovers a sphere of soft glow.

You might call it the sky’s cheese,
but I call it a nightlight—
hovering low like a searchlight
for the ******.

Never spoken of
unless it’s full,
a beacon for a wolf’s howl,
an ear for your secrets
when no one else listens.

like the earth,
i orbit and observe—
sunshine and ghosts,
moonlit secrets put to sleep
in mornings shadowed
by entities of me.

where i roar not loud enough to be heard,
only whispered—
a metaphysical battle of words.

asleep and awake at the same time,
a cosmic shroud,
a star without shine.