crescent moon
calls my name
shows their face
its just a game
i hide my shame
for liking them
for eyes can blame
though it's not the same

hello stars
you all shine so bright
hello stars
can't you hear me?
hello stars
help me tonight
hello stars
they're not near me
hello stars
can you help me see
hello stars
if they care
hello stars
my hearts a sea
and they're drowning there

I look
I stare
I try
I care
My heart
It cries
"He's just
a guy"
Boy, you give me butterflies.

There is such a simple math
when it comes to Sylvia Plath
to this undying Confessional fad

for in order to finally add
one must first subtract
leave all balance left in tact

hence one must choose
to be prepared to then lose
before at last you dare take

that final line break

Evening is on the take
The sun herself senses it
Her heat is slipping away
Eclipsed by cold, arctic tendrils
Rilling through the fragile geography
Earth is a strong fighter though
Able to restore itself in serene defiance
Light she brings to keep night in its place