The moon was crescent the day our eyes first met.
We gazed at each other as my brow glazed of
sweat from the hot summer night.
The moon was full the night
I kissed your knuckles.
The nights were chillier but our hearts were
warm
and
fast.
The moon was waxing the early morning
we woke up and ate peaches and picked flowers.
You put it in my hair and told me
never
to take it out and
never
to leave your side.
The moon was first quarter the night we
smoked cigarettes
and screamed of our love to anyone who would
listen.
The moon was a waxing gibbous the night you
saved me from myself. I was drowning and
couldn't
find a way out. You were the only one there.
The moon was in the third quarter when you began
to drown me.
I hesitated and gasped and fell to the earth again
where the brown grass grows and the flowers
die.
It was a new moon when you found me for the last time.
I cried to you and felt helpless and alone and cold.
you held me and I kissed your knuckles and pretended
this was happy.
For the last time.