Dear Moon,
You yearn for the love of the sun,
changing your presence.
Why do you run?
Hiding yourself so others can shine;
gleaming only in darkness ever so divine.
You look for strength in the waves
Never still, just twenty seven days.
Breaking yourself for the heartbreaking fact that you are constantly wondering if you will stay intact.

Eclipse. Twice a year you have the chance
to meet your love and have a dance. Eclipse.
Deep within the galaxies, dreaming of living your fantasies.
Desolate darkness. The sun is away,
lighting her fire in the month of May.
Burning so bright, but there’s nothing else to say.

She waits to see you glisten, to watch and even listen.
Curses herself for her fatal passions of a love too strong that has no ration.
But your love is forbidden. Why do you race?
Dear Moon, is it worth the chase?

They will never finish the building
It would stay in its skeletal form
forever
because the government is
corrupt

but then
they all are
so it wasn’t the grandest
tragedy of the world

It was a fun place for
the kids

A place where they pretended to be
monkeys and did parkour
and whatnot

A place where tight friendships
and love were to
be discovered
and kept hidden in the various
incomplete rooms
and under unfinished stairs

The unfinished building was the
wonderland of a truly magical childhood
And it was still unfinished by
the time childhood ended

It’s been twenty years
and her girlfriends kept asking
her why she wasn’t
dating or starting a family

She just shrugged. Said she didn’t
want to hurt any men

It was enough those twenty years
ago when she
told a boy that he had to
walk across the high ledge if he wanted her kiss

Poor kid was too dumb and love-struck
for his own good,
but his fall and death took her out of the
tomboy phase.
She no longer sought adventure
and thrill

twenty years…

And the building was
still unfinished

Melt me into a thousand, reflective sighs. I ache for such sweet release — hypnotic, cathartic. I want to see myself drown once — with my life flashing in a slow-spinning liquid mirrorball. Just once in such graceful, calm, permanent surrender. Just once, and for the last time.