You said you loved me to the moon
but you couldn’t make it back.
You got lost in its craters
as I lost myself in mine,
a swarm of holes in my heart,
the hollow crevices from a million losses–
Nights spent bent over,
curled within my cocoon of melancholy.
It is in these eerily silent twilights
that I watch the moonlight stream in and illuminate my pale skin.
I let that silver light
dismantle my heart,
for what is letting go but a slow dismembering of a weighted heart?
And you sunk further away,
only 238,900 sharded inhales away,
and I, swallowed by the density of unloved stars.
And click on the highlighted word, swarm, above to be linked to the Daily Post’s page and read all the other great posts for today’s prompt.
” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”