how many the times
i’ve cursed at the moon
for making a fool
of this heart
how many the dreams
he’s offered to keep –
unwilling i’ve let
every one
fall apart
sworn to my honor
a warrior sometimes –
come as the night
still reaches for day
how faithfully started
from one
we became –
a whisper of promise
betrayed
. . .
The moon is jealous as it has no hands to hold its lover’s with …
…and lips without fate to speak her name ❤