Apr 2016
There were days when the cold moon did not return at night;
i would stay, frozen, under the dark blanket called sky,
waiting
for a sign of reassurance,
for a sign of the end to my loneliness,
hoping something would save me from the enveloping grasp of darkness
when the moon returned the next day, slowly until it was full
before it decided to start leaving me again.
i would stay, frozen, under the dark blanket called sky,
waiting
for a sign of reassurance,
for a sign of the end to my loneliness,
hoping something would save me from the enveloping grasp of darkness
when the moon returned the next day, slowly until it was full
before it decided to start leaving me again.
In depressing times, I find it best to address my pain through vague poetry such as this instead of indulging in things that are unsafe.
