ash-free air
fading skyline

melodies of
rich warm
and
harmonies of
deep cool

muted pastels,
peaches and pinks
matching her cheeks

Pluto Projector
Rex Orange County

stargazing
solo

star clusters
galaxies
constellations

bears
archers
scorpions
scales
­
off-balance
head spinning
stomach turning
breath caught
and eyes closed...

she swore the moon
was advancing

whispering
how happy her sun is
with her absence...

Full Moon speaks the last word tonight -
Casual-recherché and light.
In the absence of the sun she
Leafs through the pages of the night
And shoots a side-look at the pond -
Her desire stretches far beyond
His specular contour.

© LazharBouazzi,  November 28, 2016

There's a time, somewhere between 12am and 6am,
When all artistic, damaged or insomniatic souls
Feel like they're completely alone
Even though we're all awake and feeling the same thing.
12am is still too loud, still too car engines and shouting,
And 6am is too light, too exposing and awake, aware.
It's blackness but for the starlight puncturing holes in the sky,
That's when the magic arises and enchants us.
The way the moon looks at us and begs us to untrouble our weary hearts,
So we do it, and we do it willingly.
She is the most unfaithful lover, and it is beautiful.
How she cherishes each whispered secret so deeply
That it leaves a crater on her being.
How she takes on our pain unflinchingly,
And only needs 28 days to feel whole again.
There's a time, somewhere between 12am and 6am,
When the most trapped souls can feel such freedom.

I want to leave this place,
find somewhere else in which to live.
For I've given here all I have to give.
Find a place I belong,
In a new and happy song.
I could sing about the night,
How the moon in full glory shines so bright.
I would sing about the rain,
How it washed away my tears of pain
and led me to the other side where skies are blue.
That's all i can do...
to not let this world ruin me.