I long to be
Like the moon:
How she smiles
At whole and
And eaten half,
Privy to the wind’s whip
Of change
At ease in her
Shifting slip of skin,
Unafraid of the night’s,
Dark, dead fruits,
As she breaks to
To make herself anew.
How she magnetises,
The seven seas,
And push-pulls
Them all with ease,
Ever susceptible to her
Every tease.
How easy it is for her to
See from every angle,
Every fragile heart
And crying mouth,
Without ever burning out.
I long for her
Healing silver,
The peace of her mount
On the hill.
How much would it be,
How many pennies
Would I need to pay
To have
That much love to spill?
And, tell me, if you will,
Just how many
Hearts would it fill?
- @driftlight
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