I kissed the full moon, left to determine the outcome of this postcard romance.

I'm left wondering - would it make an acute difference, the minute disturbance against this that has caused my earth to turn?

I could make your waves dance,

and the stars would shoot amorous-pathetic love through your heart

and make you feel pearl-white under pressure -

of all this beauty that is created.

The tide in my moon is overtaking the brittle pieces of myself,

washing over me, oh, the bits of dust and coffee-stained cups' sadness,

the empty papers left blank for your pictures to be drawn.

I'll kiss you on twilight, and hope for your sunrise.

As long as your arms are open wide, and trees always have its breeze,

it is the past of the broken, last spoken words.

It only lasted for so long and lingered on until it’s broken pieces of everlasting trust and truth were no more.

No more does it exist, or ever shall perish, only to embed in my mind

To hurt this future and never forgotten.

Only reassurance now.

The gaze of lusting eyes -

Odd senses and spiteful words, they linger now.

It will never happen again. Making no sense of forgotten hurts.

Promise me anything. Because I’m losing everything.

Thoughts of old - they're lost. I could never feel that again.

It intentionally was your own, not mine to choose.

You swallowed my gasping words and stilled your words with my lips -

Against yours.