it calls to me,
coos out my name and a sweet song
sung only by those who know her as a love;
but who needs to know that?
it is but useless information
until you hear the song of the moon
and in it's kindness you weep.
her sweet heart sits on your sleeve
dripping a sweet silver dew
of understanding nights
wishing you were her
if only to be admired by so many
just like you.

it is all for not
until it isn't a worthless effort any more;
breathing underneath her radiance, belong only to that of old gods,
the ones that god abandoned when we didn't feel the need for them anymore.
but the moon,
she stayed
as we loved underneath her glow
her mercury-esque cast shadows.
her sweet blaze falls pleasantly on your smile
and i feel the moon in my heart once again;
think of her kindness to me
in nights of dew-dripped eyes,
and flattering silhouettes.
i think of her now,
looking at you.