We are all moths
seeking the moon
but finding streetlights
instead.

*

-JBClaywell

© P&ZPublications

I wish I had done different,
Had never given love,
Had never given hope consent,
Or somehow been enough.

I wish it could be easy now
To give my heart and word
To press a kiss upon your brow
Or even to be heard.

But hope is false and love is trite;
I'm lonely in my bed tonight.

Hot as fire your tempers rage,
Cold, the song you sung
As you move and as you age
I hope from Hell your heart is sprung.

feel the muscles tensing there
softly hear my praises sing
raise my pulse, and pull my hair--
my body is a loving thing.

touch my neck: its hairs will raise
feel my goosebumps spread;
if your lips on mine should graze
i shall never join the dead.

but to you i'm only skin
and all my tears are not enough
to baptize me from how you've sinned
and how you took advantage, love.

I'm drawn to you...
Not like fish are to the sea, or fire is to the wick of a candle,
No, I am drawn to you like a moth is to the flame, like a viking is to a ****** war.
I am drawn to you, despite the danger because I know in my heart that is where I belong and where I need to be, even if it ends up killing me.