"moonburn" poems - Hello Poetry

the moon chased me through cities growing more as days go by I could not escape its gaze through foggy curtained windows I always thought I was made for the night but as it turned out the moon burns in me more than the sun ever could

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Feb 25, 2021

Feb 25, 2021 at 3:02 AM UTC

lifeasalyric

moonburn

the moon chased me through cities growing more as days go by I could not escape its gaze through foggy curtained windows I always thought I was made for the night but as it turned out the moon burns in me more than the sun ever could

8

I feel bad for the Moon who burns my skin It wasn’t her fault, but rather her lover’s Skin once milky white - Now swathed in blistery red What was once a warm embrace - Now needles in my veins That deceiving Sun Who once kissed my flesh into a blush Has abandoned me to the agony of nightfall And here I sway among a sea of grass caked in Summer's tears Shaking my fist angrily at the Moon Whose glow neither harms nor heals me - But reveals her lover's trickery

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Feb 19, 2018

Feb 19, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC

jesha

Moonburn

I feel bad for the Moon who burns my skin It wasn’t her fault, but rather her lover’s Skin once milky white - Now swathed in blistery red What was once a warm embrace - Now needles in my veins That deceiving Sun Who once kissed my flesh into a blush Has abandoned me to the agony of nightfall And here I sway among a sea of grass caked in Summer's tears Shaking my fist angrily at the Moon Whose glow neither harms nor heals me - But reveals her lover's trickery

13

I sit here among the windmills Absently weaving wildflowers In Out Pull Repeat My fingers shake and I break A fine green stem The downy white head pops off like a cork And its orphaned body lays prone in the palm of my hand And I wonder Is it still a daisy without its head? In Out Pull Repeat I sit here among the windmills The sun watching over me His rays paint-brushing Shades of bubblegum pink into the milky skin of my bare bent back I think of the moon How tender strokes would soon give way to needles Dancing under blood-red skin And I wonder If maybe it should have been called moonburn instead? In Out Pull Repeat I sit here among the windmills Thinking of the God I don't believe in Guiding my hand as I scrawl Senseless words across my mind Pulling daisies from the ground And looping stems into crowns I cry for the loss As I come full-circle And I wonder What now? In Out Pull I stand here among the windmills Pushing daisies with my dirt stained toes Naked and free Barring the crown on my head And the years etched across my face. In I sleep here among the windmills In a bed made of my own carnage Silver hair waving back in farewell And I realize I'll never be burned by the moon again. Out -

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Dec 9, 2017

Dec 9, 2017 at 5:46 PM UTC

jesha

Among the Windmills

I sit here among the windmills Absently weaving wildflowers In Out Pull Repeat My fingers shake and I break A fine green stem The downy white head pops off like a cork And its orphaned body lays prone in the palm of my hand And I wonder Is it still a daisy without its head? In Out Pull Repeat I sit here among the windmills The sun watching over me His rays paint-brushing Shades of bubblegum pink into the milky skin of my bare bent back I think of the moon How tender strokes would soon give way to needles Dancing under blood-red skin And I wonder If maybe it should have been called moonburn instead? In Out Pull Repeat I sit here among the windmills Thinking of the God I don't believe in Guiding my hand as I scrawl Senseless words across my mind Pulling daisies from the ground And looping stems into crowns I cry for the loss As I come full-circle And I wonder What now? In Out Pull I stand here among the windmills Pushing daisies with my dirt stained toes Naked and free Barring the crown on my head And the years etched across my face. In I sleep here among the windmills In a bed made of my own carnage Silver hair waving back in farewell And I realize I'll never be burned by the moon again. Out -

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