I wake in a fog
moon outside my
window
bathed in cloud,
I see her face, crater eyes,
deep, dark, full of
mystery I
will never comprehend
, full of pain and anguish,
only she knows,
only she feels,
the scars not nearly
as visible
as the wounds the moon reveals.
How do we survive in a universe
that is so dead set against us?
How do we get out of an orbit
that brings us back each day
of week or month or
year
to the very place we started?
I wake in a fog of my own desire,
little understanding
that she lives
in a cloud of pain,
a life full of
eclipses
that darken her and her heart.
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