Beyond the Blue Moon
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The very first piece I will be writing,
From a note without such meaning.
As romance once bloomed in our backyard,
To end up like a corpse in the graveyard.
I'm afraid to feel this way again; I really do.
Thinking of many trials, my eyes turning blue.
My fragmented glass, no way to reassemble.
Will jump again so recklessly for the fall.
Then, I met a guy with unplanned plans.
Limitless limits, moving the chairs to dance.
Why are you being nice to me? I don't deserve it.
I'm a poison ivy in a patch of Daisy soon to wilt.
I'll introduce every part of me, young stranger.
Stealing cars, two crimes as partners in danger.
In this last moment, our hearts entwine,
As tomorrow's dawn marks a separate line.
In solitude, my soul grieves deeply and for so long.
A lonely echo lingers in somber leaves that don't belong.
But whatever this will end up, at least I feel it again.
At least once, dancing on the blue moon again.
YOU ARE READING
Cornelia Street
PoetryThrough sonnets inspired by Shakespeare, I finally reveal the intimate secrets I've kept hidden for so long, even though I'm afraid no one will hear them. They capture the anguish of unspoken emotions I've never been able to say out loud, hoping for...
