It is 3:00a.m,
and a cold breeze has suddenly rushed into my room.
These chills seem to have woken me up
to have a conversation with the moon.
The moon that remains so bold,
to shine so bright in such immense darkness.
How brave of her to have the ability to harness the
tarnished cities of which she oversees..
the battered leaves that tomorrow, will leave with the breeze..
the purest hearts that drop down to their knees
in the middle of the street
begging you to please,
have some sympathy..
the thieves that leave with the keys to our hearts,
the ones who said you would never be stranded,
yet you watched them depart.
She sees the things
that wake us out of our coldest dreams.
And yet, her energy bleeds
to relieve the shackles
and loosen your seams.
It seems we don't notice those that breathe,
unless they play a character
in this illusionary theme...
a scheme of how things should be in society.
She observes quietly.
How brave of her to absorb
the reflection of tears
that fall on our floors.
This stillness is something I have come to adore, more and more.
It plays jazz music on the deepest depths of my candescent core.
The door is open, and from myself, I am torn.
I have decided to be bold
like the moon's pull that allowed this ballpoint to roll.
It is time for me to go back to sleep,
and awake reborn.

- L.G.