i love the moon
wrapped around my neck
the small crescent moon bouncing happily on my heart
as we hold hands

that same beautiful moon
in which i trace with my fingers
feeling the smooth moonstone
be imprinted with my fingerprints

that same affectionate moon
as it glided on your chest when we gasped for more air
and you held me close to your heart
as the moonlight shined softly from the window

that same wonderstruck moon
we would fight under
tears that reflected the moonstone
always streaming down my face

that same gleaming moon
that you would wipe my tears
with the hands i had felt for years
and all i could do was look up and dream of

that same distant moon
where i had found out about your disloyalty
and i felt myself slipping into vast space
putting myself in front of asteroids just to feel something

that same sickening moon
taunting me with the way it just
stays up there, coming out only at night
only to observe and listen for chaos that reigns after dark

that same wicked moon
that was suffocating me in my sleep
when i would lie next to your empty shell
gasping for air as i wipe my moonstone tears

that same dreadful moon
as it watched me deteriorate in your arms
burning holes into my chest
dwindling my soul until it left me hollow

i... used to love the moon
when i knew that it was lovingly
wrapped around my neck by you
and you would feel the moonstone with your lips

i used to love the moon
until the last star died
and i ripped it off from my neck
and drove myself into a black hole

that same cynical moon
that you proclaimed your love to me too,
was the same ******* moon
that my entire being was shattered by you

...

i ******* hate the moon.

Wedding bells in Thebes
Jewelled treasure about slim throats
Strife passed down bloodlines

Time threads her necklace patiently,
Choosing carefully the colour and shape of our experiences,
Here, a tumbled quartz - luminous and rosy,
There, shards of darkest onyx - tragic and uncompromising,
Every now and again, a perfect sphere of sacred turquoise to mark a special occasion.

Finally, satisfied with her handiwork Time ties off the strand,
And weaves the precious metal of our dreams - unrealised - into an intricate clasp,
As she places the memento around her bejewelled neck she sighs to herself and whispers:
‘Such promise, such pain, such beauty, such loss; I will treasure you always.’
Then reaching for her spool of silver thread, she begins again to thread her golden needle.