She’s pretty—
Sharp chin, long lashes
Smooth skin and bright eyes,
Shining with a darkness
Only the moon could have.

And I yearn to hold her,
To be held by her, and
Tell her how much I love her

Yet she pushes back,
Handing out her love like rations
When I am but a starving child

I will always be too much for her
And she will never be enough

An ability we can't explain,
the ability to feel our love.
To feel it still even through pain,
what a gift it is, or so it was.

Before we forgot and squandered,
loosing it to the infinite.
Before we rationed and excluded,
basking it in pride.
Before we took the reins and pulled too tight,
what once was boundless...now out of sight.