The moon has seen everything,
but it never speaks.
It just lingers—
half-lit, half-lost,
dragging tides and secrets in its wake.

I asked it once,
"Did he ever mean it?"
"Will the ache dissolve like salt in water?"
"Why do I still dream in his voice?"
The moon only blinked,
a quiet refusal wrapped in silver.

Nights like this,
I fold myself into the dark,
press my ear against the silence,
listening for answers
that do not come.

Maybe love is just a sky full of questions.
Maybe healing is learning
to stop waiting for the moon to reply.

I'm just a sparrow
longing for sky
and if I had wings
I could fly.

The heart that loves truly
         has a foretaste of eternity
         beyond the pale of the earthly
         it dwells in untold bliss and beauty

In the woods, I saw him once
Through the trees, the branches crunched

My basket warm, with gifts to spare

He took it all, left standing there.

There was no ax,
No take backs,

There was no peace,
No songs to keep

Oh, his ears,
Oh, his teeth

Stalking me, to my granny

Till he went in too deep,
Lost his feet.

The only other way, gone
is down.

taste as above the mind
interlong, stretch of water sold
absinthe's disdain for salt
familiar running legs brushing cruel

The copper bells glisten
Swaying in the sunshine
I pause as I listen
To the tinkling
Of the wind chimes

In the distance, they ring
A gentle melody -
I hear their songs
The unsaid words they sing

How sweet is their music
Sweet the joy they bring
Such is the wonder -
The magic of little things

even now, i'm almost as high as i want to be.

indulging in the first bite of the apple was always a thing for me.

and i take my time with it.