The navy blue evening sky cut out by the black silhouette of trees. The moths fluttering under the moon. The way all trees bristle one another. The courage when on the first date she laid her hand on his knee. The comfort of hollow churches. The emptiness and then everywhere something. The anonymous scent of ripeness in the air. The feeling of energy realizing itself.
Those nights when the stars
are hidden by clouds
as big as your heart.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 9:07 PM UTC
The navy blue evening sky cut out by the black silhouette of trees. The moths fluttering under the moon. The way all trees bristle one another. The courage when on the first date she laid her hand on his knee. The comfort of hollow churches. The emptiness and then everywhere something. The anonymous scent of ripeness in the air. The feeling of energy realizing itself.
Those nights when the stars
are hidden by clouds
as big as your heart.
Request permission to use this poem