our crescent moon floats in idle reverie
amidst its opal lagoon
in that lacuna before the day's first morning blush
while the fish hold their breath

and as she swims,
she illuminates the heiroglyphs scrawled on the sky
in the scumbled vapourtrails of hurried planes
soon to be dispersed
by the heavy breaths of snoring gods

but i just don't ******* care
moon, please let me sleep

like venus and mars, nestled betwixt a bounty of stars
we snicker at the galaxies of gods
behind flakey, early morning lips;
waiting for the apocalypse

melting at your touch
a simple hug - our brusque
adieu

and you'll never be too much
for someone who can't get enough
of you

and the Mona's in the Louvre
and the opera's in Berlin
and the skin that I'm wearing
starts to feel like a sin

the gentle twinkle
of a distant star
speaks heavenly morse
with my fluttering heart

she told me her saturn was returning
the icing on the cake
of a well baked excuse

I asked, 'what on earth',
but she was far from it
she felt my climate change
and had jumped in a rocket

the recipe was written on the stars
and we were following it with ease
it said to turn up the temperature
but she turned 180° degrees