Upon A Grassy Hillside
surrounded by quiet,
and above me
spackled with starlight,
and a full-moon
encased in an aura,
It is here ...
for better days.
Songs ring in my head,
songs from days past,
they tell me
love is such an easy game,
you win, you lose.
When daylight rises,
night dreams will fade,
the day will begin,
but the songs play on.
left in the beauty
and i wait for you
in this moonlit dream
(drunk on twinkling stars)
hoping that one day
you'll return to me.
o my god
star spangled freckles suspended from glossy filaments hang upon your face
painted in liquid silver they caress your cheeks like i wish i could
instead i’m left to reach out with what remains of these broken hands
these brittle bones which long ago fell into ruin and decay
my crumbling temple walls o’ercome by vines and wild death
the temple i built to you o my god o ruler of mine unruly heart
upon that hollow hallowed altar pomegranate seeds tucked within your cheek
you disappeared in a fit of shattered glass and sand and endless heartbreak
leaving me with naught but your brittle name upon my cracked and bleeding lips
no matter how far my fingers stretch the inch between us fore’er grows
i’m grasping at liquid demons inside these moonlit dreams
every smile you've ever worn
swings by on the sparkling tails of stars
you look up to the sky, awed, and it hurts
how amazing and new everything is
to the eyes that have never known tears of grief
it hurts, these moonlit dreams i have
of times when you were happy
of times when things were better for you
and of times we both seem to try and forget
for the sake of our mental stability
and all the lies we've built up since
standing tall and graceful on their
broken foundations of things we'd rather not
Fairytale lantern in the sky,
moonlit dreams twinkle nearby.
Darkness seems to swallow all
inside a nighttime lullaby.
Bask of Moonlit Beds
Silvered alabaster thoughts
Stitch gold to twilight beams
As twill like cobweb’s silk, inwrought,
Plaits evening’s moonlit dreams
Turn-down navy, satin sheets
Tuck constellations’ quilt
As milk-white-chocolate visage sweets
Of lunar luxe are spilt
While you were dreaming
"Catch me if you can," said the Man in the Moon to the Sleepy Sun before the darkness slipped away and then like magic, he was gone,
before the sun ever had a fighting chance.
Fingers bending golden sand
Being stares at the card in his hand
Someone’s ready to hit the hay
They bend on their knees to pray
He sighs, and shakes his head
This one would soon be dead
But as the lad heads to dreamland
He would send a wave of golden sand
That will give the lad pleasant dreams
And not a time filled with screams!
when the moon peeks its head
out of the curtains to give me
a pitying look as I stare at my
ceiling tacked with plastic stars
that's the kind of time when I
spiral into these mad delusions:
pretend that I could shape myself
out of my own heat-blasted clay
and that fresh from the kiln I
would know the right answer
when you ask me if I like you--
made of strong and durable
well-shaped confidence my
stoneware lips would form
the right shapes...
instead the moon blinks at me
as I seethe in the flames, nothing
but porcelain mistakes, shattering
against the walls of my skull
I wish that I could be remolded
and not yet displayed to the world
because clearly there's still some
baking to be done;
and I haven't yet learned how to be
so I spend my days wishing I knew
better, wishing I did better, wishing
I didn't regret my weak-willed
ceramic heart that knows too little
that's when I stare at my ceiling
whispering moonlit dreams and
wondering when the spinning
his moonlit dreams was crying stars.
after the sun baked the life right out of him, he cowered to the moon as though he were a lost friend. perhaps that was why the moon became kind to him, savouring the new affection, but knew it needed the proper attention. and as they exchanged wishes and realized their unspoken desires, he glanced away from the moon- that's when he saw her. she was crying stars with a midnight heart; yes, she was lit up by the moon. that's how he knew he was destined to love her.
soon, cuts began to decorate his hands, showing all the times he failed to catch them. and far too often does she wonder if sylvia path had it right, with her melodious hearts and jilted poetry. but he never lets her think so for long, because he loves her and she just needs to know that (even if it seems he's coming off strong). now she spends the nights cowering with him, fingers interlaced and a million promises they've caught from falling out of their mouths. and he's sacrificed his nights to hers, feeling blessed just by the sight of her smiling at him. she cries the stars out in constellations now.
she was a collection of his moonlit dreams in the flesh; he grew to be her everything. the moon smirks at them sweetly, as they dance to the music of their hearts beating. she knows better than to ask of his fears, just as he knows never to speak of her miseries; why, because all they need is for each other just to be there. since loving is more than words, it's the unspoken feelings that stir in the night, while she cries her blinding tears and he caresses her golden hair.