I look at the moon and think of you.

I used to have interaction on here but for the past 6 months my account has had zero.
No one is seeing my writing. Please help

have you ever felt a friendship die,
gasping for its last breath between scattered texts and awkward compliments?
each wincing inhale a deliberate pause
to find the words you force
yourself to want.
you may need each other but the knife
between the ribs didn’t.
time won’t heal what’s already dead
but the memory of it may be beautiful
and kind like ocean air before your lips
are parched, a firm kiss you want to linger (and does), a lightning bolt against the ****** that reminds you of their warmth.

i bare myself in word-song to share
in rhythm and sound,
to release this pressure in crisp,
light notes-- palatable.
to share sordid beauty
that i've yet to understand,
to let you know you're not alone.
to dig to the core of something likely awful,
nasty, and stupid, and reason with it to
kindness and love.
i bare myself to understand
and be understood.

moonlight is invoked
as a beacon--
in taut-fingered metaphor
as beauty's parallel.
but its power is in reflection,
in meditation, in echo.

but what value is there
in light stolen and returned
softer, gentler?

maybe understanding
that these radiances exist in balance
and liken their charm
in effigy to ourselves.