To be sad

Is to mourn over
Death
As decorated
With your crest

It means that
That's all thats left
And you
Are gone

You sure do
Look good
In the moonlight
For the moon
Doesent die

And it glows
To remember you
And tells all the stars
About your life

As your bearing
May hang
From its crest
Of a crescent

Lo, the waxing moon  
eyeing on heaven
ups a notch high.
The higher it goes
pulls the tides more
down on the sea
the crescent moon sways.

It bows down and prays
as it sails towards
the locked away
heaven far, far away.
The sea spilling billow
floats the key
to the tucked away ally way!

i think i'm in love
with a man drunk on the moon
i think he's a wolf

the moon is gone
and the crescent my fantasy
for so long, never seeing you
the time has finally come
for me to have forgotten your face
when night is risen and moon is full
i imagine you there
your soft, beautiful face
gorgeously round and pointed and soft
the arch of your brow
and your wailing eyes
digging so deep into my own
that in my reflection yours are buried
formed from little craters and debris
historically indifferent
they must be your eyes
i was crying the last time i looked at you
you staring at me, indifferent, remorseful
i am crying now, looking at the moon
it must be you up there
eight months and twelve days
june twenty-eighth
july nineteenth
i hate that i can't remember your face
and i mourn you still
just by looking up
to that same moon
i fear the day that i might see you again
that i may be reminded of your gentleness
that i may hear the nectar of your voice
i can never stop myself from you
can never hold back from admiring you
in my entirety, you, the moon
my only beacon, beloved anchor
but the moon is gone
and the crescent only my fantasy