#stewing
I take strength from them
the mice are scratching inside the walls
I resign myself to the trees
as I move further into the forest, I'm forgotten
The Moon is a clock
I am revealed within, pale skin
a part of me stayed in the city
trapped
it makes me docile needy and wrapt
The moon is a clock
that my clouds often block
I resign myself to the trees
I take strength from them
they will struggle through winter with me
I have no faith in flesh
I love
They move below above
the trees wear the earth like a sock
The Moon is a clock
as I lay in the meadow
the grass covers me quickly
the taste of blessed sanctuary becomes sickly
I stare at chipped paint on floorboards
wrap cold knuckles on a dead door
I resign myself
The Moon is a clock
the clouds fluffy socks
we will struggle through winter
I will die in my own little world
this big one a backdrop
The Moon is a clock
As I move further into the forest
the bare trees become more honest
I take strength from them
they are here with me
I have no faith in flesh
the mice are scratching inside the walls
the leaves fall
this blessed sanctuary becomes a trap
my cold knuckles wrap
on a dead door
chipped paint on floorboards
I resign myself to the trees
and The Moon is a clock
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 8:06 AM UTC
Are you raising plants from the ground
Are you coaxing foxes from their dens
Are you waiting for the sun to be confident again
(for it to stop hiding because it thinks the moon shines brighter
and it is ashamed)
I need time alone
Need time to sift my thoughts through my spaghetti strainer brain
You took a weed-whacker to my youth, too
And somehow I survived
So I will be still
And close up like a flower
When the darkness comes.
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC