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I was a moon and I envied the stars, but shooting stars the most.
Because for a moment, they look like the sun.
And everyone loved the sun. That’s why I wanted to be one so bad.
What I didn’t realize was that you loved the night more than the day. You loved things that glowed through the brightness of another.
You only ever looked at the moon. Not the stars and not the sun.
You weren’t like everybody else. It was the moon you loved.
And with that, I’ve never been happier to be a moon.
To be your moon.
I never knew what moonlight felt like till the night I held you in my arms.
May
May never
unshine
the sunshine.

May ever
a cloud be
cloudly.

Forever
may showers
flowers

with weather
bursting
may thirsting.
Spooks 19h
Love is a dangerous game
That I don’t know how to play
Sometimes I wish you never came
Sometimes than I think I’d be okay
You have the sun In your eyes
And i the moon
Too bad you spill nothing but lies
Maybe I just let you in too soon
For you are the sun
And I am the moon
LRF 1d
At the moment when
the last rays
acquiesce
to the faint glimmer of stars
and the time we have had
looks to be setting
on a far away horizon,
a finger of light
slips through long shadows
cast by tree trunks
and sparkles in the mica particles
of blazing red dust;
a trail to follow
a possible promise of a reclaimed day
that creeps into the undergrowth
and vanishes
with the pink sky.
May 2020

For a man who holds more promise than a red dust path.
I see waves
and candy-filled holidays
I see beach *****
and florescent seafoam
I see barely clad soccer moms
playing in the surf
with their children
I see Humbert
eyeing the teenage girls
I see the beauty
of an Asian sun
I see bikini ties come undone
I see predilection
and his friend, ignorance
I see the same social distancing
by the color of one's skin
I see newfound paranoia
I see the old pleasure
and pain
I see a broken whole
in a mere afternoon walk
on the shore

Welcome to
the empirical sand

What you see
is what you get
BLT's continued challenge- to write a poem using the Merriam- Webster word of the day, empirical.
Between the sun of my eyes
and the canvas of my eyelids
is the silhouette of you
which I must always look upon.
There is only dead.
There is no gone.
a poem a day... still going
Color 1d
the wise old sun sighs
as the pretentious moon laughs,
dances with the stars.
The sun was just an ordinary star
Till earth came into existence
And proved that it was very special
It's truly something very bizarre
Because even amongst billions of stars
The sun is somehow still special
Exact reactions had to occur in precise moments with billions of years of work going into making you, so why do you say you're not special?
Hamies 2d
attracted to fire
burned too many times
always been a summer person
like icarus in disguise
while you were my sun
i've been burned too many times
in love with the pain
if it means aching for you
won't ever stop flying
until i melt through your fingers
and fall into love
never again
cause there is no love
after loving the sun
do not rescue me
i am willing to be burnt
if it is for her
Cox 2d
I don’t care if you like roses.
He’s a f*cking sunflower.
Shower him with light,
love him.
For he is a king set for the sun.
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