"In the moon and the sky"
Glayz Welch 

In the moon and the sky
You take your life, so I risk mine
They're all so worried
They try to talk to me
I do not answer
But they can see
I'm in pain
Not sure exactly what I need
I hate myself they all hate me
After a while
I realize
They do care about me
It's okay to just grieve

I wrote this in residential treatment
"quaint harvest moon"
Melody W 

Where once
there were four,
now three remain

lone spirits traipsing
out into the cold,
pale faces faintly

illuminated by a
quaint harvest moon
(untimely at best)

wind biting ankles,
pushing shadows down
the meandering path

memory of those
chilling last hours
why are you stopping?

heavy hearts, hands
furious in futile attempts
to infuse warmth into limbs

my dear mother, please
do not tether him to
this decaying body;
he has long since

flown away.

"the moon chided me softly"
Melody W 

August arrived too early this year,
eager eyes and straight pleats
tethered to the sleepy confusion
of a disrupted midday siesta

It was the end of cherry season
yet they kept bursting forth,
firm to the touch and cool,
unyielding - not unlike you

When distant bells were heard,
I didn't turn my head one bit,
tangled, so entranced was I
by the thickets of sweet fruit

A waning year upon us again,
the moon chided me softly
as I turned my face away,
ashamed at my reflection

"waning crescent moon"
Melody W 

Nightly, I roam these streets
alone in my thoughts, haunted;
symmetrical lanes mock the
labyrinth of my tortured mind

Obsidian stones skim the surface
of these choppy waters signaling
depths beyond the incessant rhythms
revealed to but a few unlucky ones

And centuries later, I'm still a stranger
in this foreign land, my open palms
pleading with the lost, the forgotten
waning crescent moon

"*The moon is bright today!*"
Melody W 

Marked by imperfections
weathered by Time,
will your sturdy branch hold
the weight carried unwillingly
for so long?

One weary foot
chasing another
an infertile vicious cycle
unable to be tempered

Solemn face cast downward
cruel anticipation
bright slaughterhouse
a little ways down a
meandering dusty road
unbeknownst to most

Breathe once more,
Deafening gusts of
mockingly jaded motifs
fill your aching lungs.


Loveless departure;
please do not disturb
this final resting place
for unseeing eyes

The moon is bright today!
musings echo vacancies
Cast into the wind.

There is no moon in the sky.

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