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The moon calls to me tonight—
I cannot resist her charms.
I slip beyond the confines of my room
To let the evening soak into my soul.

A full moon spills her silver light,
Darkness braided with her glow.
Rocky earth crunches beneath my feet,
Each step alive with sound and scent.

The high desert hums its song:
Stars glimmer, coyotes cry.
A noisy stillness fills the air,
As daylight’s brightness fills the sky.

My heaven is green grass,
And scent of sagebrush and hay.
I belong in this moonlit nirvana,
Where constellations burn like fire.
(or: how we stay close without fixing each other)

you
want to help
like an update
no one asked for

you
offer maps
like you’ve seen
every ending
except mine

you say:
don’t go that way
don’t trust that noise
don’t make that choice
(it might be wrong)

but
what if wrong
is exactly
where I learn
to build something
that isn’t yours?

you
don’t see it
but you
tangle love
with strategy
care
with programming
safety
with silence

and maybe
you don’t mean to
rule me
just
to shield me
from a storm
you invented

but I
am not
a glitch
a crash
a child

   I
   am the storm
    that refused
     your umbrella

and we
can still
stay close
because
I don’t need
to lose myself
to love you

but you
will have to
let me
be the version
you don’t
control

I bleed with ink.
You breathe in brushstrokes.
Still, we meet
in the same shade of ache.

I call it a stanza.
You call it a sky,
but both are ways
to survive the silence.

My pen trembles like your hands do
when the colours won’t blend.
We try to tell the truth,
but it keeps slipping
into metaphor.

I say “I miss you”
through rhythm.
You say it
through smudged reds
and too much blue.

We never made sense
in black and white.
But somewhere between
my verse
and your canvas,
we almost
became a masterpiece.
When a painter loves a poet. Find me on the Poesie app as palindromic_angel to hear my readings :)
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