settled.
the tranquility of safety acquired solely on the notion of privacy.
the intimate life led entirely out of reach.
spinning alone, out of sync.
while still pouring brightness
into the sky each night,  beautiful beyond words to
each pair of eyes laid before it. most would agree.
except agreement isn't something that all have
impending inside ribcages, buried within
because when asked
"the moon is beautiful, isn't it?"
the break of mere words spoken
portrayed just how simple it was to disagree,
as the ribcage rattled to hum otherwise.