he doesn't say good morning at the crack of dawn
barely even manages to look me in the eye
and when I pass, he doesn't look up with bedazzled eyes
and although words fail him and days stretch where he is absent and I am a wreck
there are moments where I am convinced
that he is the moon
and I was always meant be his star
far enough not to be a nuisance
but close enough to admire all the ways he is
my last bit of hope
is strung around his neck
and i fear if the world ends tomorrow
he'd leave me on the deck