Of who you are
And what I am
And who we might become
You only tell the moon
When she is full
That she's herself again
but discard hope,
all ye who
fail to see the grace
In underfinished crescents
In half thought poems
In broken plates
in streets with shattered concrete,
in ashes after flames
in charcoaled cakes
In half built building cities
and teary tissues on the floor
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
Of who you are
And what I am
And who we might become
You only tell the moon
When she is full
That she's herself again
but discard hope,
all ye who
fail to see the grace
In underfinished crescents
In half thought poems
In broken plates
in streets with shattered concrete,
in ashes after flames
in charcoaled cakes
In half built building cities
and teary tissues on the floor
stars city tissue broken plate street she her moon identity you me andabitofdante
