I was wondering about the subtle differences between the phases of the moon
And my mind fell into a crater,
Ate some cosmic dust.
I find myself thinking of you
You send my heart racing, not that I would ever admit it
On your face,
Not that I can dream of
Anything but scratching your skin, making you bleed
And the moonlight washes over me
Are we really that far apart?

I imagine you sitting on a grassy field
The pale night light reflecting off your rimless glasses
The breeze flowing through your hair
Thinking about the devastation of the world
Social experiments, Nietzche, and the way a girls breasts feel under your fingers

Here I am, miles and miles away, writing about you
Feeling an unfamiliar ghost of unrest
Amidst a confluence of comforting smells
Of my grandmother’s bedsheets.

I can barely hold my tongue, the shit we do can melt the sun

I shouldn’t be thinking of you
It comes as a surprise,
As absurd as when you had soften against my fingers
Hot wax,
Staring at the moon while making a bed
Laughing nervously without knowing why
You always got under my skin
Never under my clothes,

Is that why I think of you,
Instead of the lovers who buzz around my head
Tiny obscure flies,
Who lay claim on my heart,
And you’re far away,
Cold and forgotten
Like the moon.

Can we watch the moon together again sometime , if we don’t really know
That we are doing it together?


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