An admirer stands down below,
for the one she loves, does not know.
Wavering grasses and a cool night breeze,
She looks up into the moon and his face she sees.
It wasn't about the boy who made her heart beat or the one who she fluttered her eyelashes at.
It was then on a cold night she realized:
It was the boy who's face she saw in the moon.
"Oh no," she thought. "I'm screwed.
Because it'll always be you."
And she couldn't help but wonder
What girls face he sees in the moon.
It wasn't hers.
And it wouldn't be anytime soon.
"Oh I'm screwed."
YOU ARE READING
Poetry and Feels
PoetryPoems are more than you may think. Poems aren't just rhyming words; To the author they're tears of ink.
