the moon is stretching
the skin
beneath my ribs
into shadows
making me
a shadow,
thin as a shadow in the evening
I will live on last sunlight
but be closer
to the darkness
that slips into my eyes
whenever I stand up
I feel like an evening,
young enough for brightness
to be painted across my cheeks
when soft moonlight wakes me up
and declares that summer is gone
she's ruling now,
half light
quiet light feeling soft in my mouth,
I thought I was consuming it;
but when I stopped,
it consumed me.
Summer 2018
YOU ARE READING
Unbroken • Poetry
Poetryeven the leaves will not break beneath her touch "All art is quite useless." - Oscar Wilde
