The moon cycle has new found meaning in my life,
As well as the vile use of alcohol to cure my head.
It has been that long since I last laid eyes on you.
That night of lips in the dark.

Before I had used alcohol to facilitate interactions with women.
Now the Devil's drink is abused to ease those times from the mind.
The fire in my heart is fed like a fury in a dry forest.
Like sticks, thoughts of you stoke the flames to inferno.
A four year old tie shoes into less confusing knots
Than the tight *** you leave in my head -
To which only that detestable liquid
Has any soothing effects upon.
The knots loosen, but thoughts still race
Around the track of my mind with dizzying fervor.

The last time I saw the moon this way,
It was the most wonderful sight to meet my eyes.
This time, it makes me sick to my stomach,
Wondering whether I will ever see you again.?
Praying that is not all the progress I am bound to make
- or if I am destined to fall short,
to extract another piece of my cold heart -
Of which I will be reminded each time I glance at the moon.