Whilst The Moon

Through the glass and past the willow,
Mumbling lines into soft white pillows,
I see at last the calmness in her cheeks
As she softly sleeps;
Dreaming in pictures.
Breathing with whispers.
I talked the sun down early for her,
The moon returned my favour.
I climbed the sheet of her rising chest and spread myself,
Rekindling her love for the moon by pleading for the suns death,
But the sun came and sang whilst the moon sneaked out in the night
To illuminate the love through it’s chilling bright white light.
Creeping through windows to caress her soft cheeks of sin
Whilst the moon played upon the dimples on her skin.
I raise my hand and reach out to a new day.
A finger away from the bleeding moons rays.
A finger touches from the distance.
Draw the curtains and close the moons bliss.
A flickering candle, wrapped in a night gown, reveal the traits of her face:
Lips that crease, eyes dark and a loose hair that dangles from the rest,
Which if you pull the world will unravel.
So flee if you wish moon.
For I can see it all blindly.