Waking up to a new sunrise,
Of a faded evening sunset,
With its old sunny rays,
And rusty eyes.
Busy camping,
At the sight of memories,
Full of ashes,
The only reminder,
Of what used to be there,
Ages and decades long ago,
Though not too long to forget.
I am thankful,
For this wonderful sky,
Stretched with endless sins,
For without it,
My troubled face,
Wouldnt shine this bright,
Lively and dull,
With stench of smoke,
A taste of bitter sweet goodness.
I am not the same anymore,
Not the one I used to be before,
The one used to know of.
I am not sure, not even of myself,
And if this is a good thing,
Because I dont know
What to feel,
How to feel it,
Or when to feel this.
I am skin and bones,
What a sight to admire!
A hidden beauty.
I feel too young to feel this old,
The perfect wounds ever casted,
That its beauty flows into poetry,
With patches and drips of blood,
On the perfect white snow,
A taste of winter,
That lasted,
Till the end of the time,
With wounds never known to heal.
YOU ARE READING
Wounds of the Moon
PoetryIwish you days with sunrise and gentle breezes. I wish you smiles with no reason to be sad I wish you happiness which knows no end I wish you peace of mind even in my mind I wish you love that will never wilter like ours has I am here for you, alway...
