what the moon cannot hide

i.

I. solitude whispers to the moon

all my nights are spent the same way:

damp skin brushes over the fabric of my pillow,

empty eyes scan an even emptier ceiling.

they search and long for things,

they've never experienced.

and the moon whispers back,

hums a hopeful lullaby.

the melody lulls me into another dreamless sleep.

- whitelisted.