silent on my bunk bed, there's
a bandage on my knee, i
take my thoughts to places
of cold calamity.
I never decide
where ill hide
until my spirit is found
for now my heart
is buried within
the earth's deep underground.
silent on my porch
the stars cry out to the trees
I'm cold with years of blizzards
but no snowflakes on my cheeks
my moon, he sits alone
and I think of him now
I hold him in my heart
buried soundly underground.
why
do I try
to picture him changed?
he's a novel in my head
and I musn't burn the page
that tells me "he is sour"
that warns me "he is cold"
yet still, my head is frozen
not matter what I'm told.
I see something in my moon,
that no one else can see,
because it isn't there.
I lie internally
I act like he's the sun,
when he's stirring in the night
the only way he'll love me
is if I turn out the light.
