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Literature Text
surely someday
he'll see the pale moon and all of
its inhabiting craters
and realize that his first love was
as rigid and blemished as
la luna.
more often than not i wake up at
2am, 3am, 4am,
when the moon is stretching its
limbs for hibernation
and find my pupils being lifted;
searching for something that is
missing.
maybe we can go back to middle
school and rifle through the lost
and found, heaving our too-heavy backpacks on
our shoulders
the truth is you're grown up and next year
you'll be gone;
and i'll be here-
missing you.
see? the moon isn't so unlike me after all,
we're both lonely without our morning sun.
and me
© 2014 - 2024 delirious-eyes
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