An Autumn moon
glowing in a purple sky
along with lesser lights
watching as
I lost my mind..

Stars gathered in
her tired eyes..
Every cosmic cluster
Glimmering, dimming
then falling into the night..

Constellations poured
across her pretty face
Recklessly they'd
c

r

a
s
h
s    l    s    i    g
     p   a   h   n    
on the ground

then were gone
without a trace..

Her tender hand consoled
the pieces left of me
And I just knew those
falling stars
would be the death of me

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, I'm well aware that nothing makes sense, including this poem :>

content is not something we give consent
you hold your pen yet the ink spills as it pleads
you are a walker of blood yet it sheds out when cut & bent
you have a brain yet the tongue blurts out the feels

content is not something we color
just an acceptance of the past
just a canvas you get to paint with limit bother
good for a day then a memory till it lasts

the kiss of a palm forehead & cheek
drafts in my head just to render a sleep
some greed never fed or a satisfaction to meet
yellow till it goes mustard & a shade deep

the saving of a night that would save the day
it's like it's gold but you're swallowing the sand?
the desperation for a treasure at some bay
how would I even find content when out of the hand?


                                                         ­                         --------ravenfeeels