Blurry Moon
Blurry Moon
Sometimes when I lay in bed, I look out my window and watch the moon glide slowly across the sky.
A gentle light that washes over everything like a blanket of down.
I clench and relax my fist, my nails creating half moons in my palm
The phyisical pain of it outwardly manifests the sting in my heart.
I open my eyes wide and grit my teeth
Willing my sight not to waver as my throat locks itself.
The chill of the night settles into my bones as I stare at the blurry moon.
The bitterness of longing sits in my chest like an abandoned lifeline
Just wishing to be noticed.
How many nights shall I watch the moon make its journey?
How many sunrise will I watch bloom?
Days and nights blend together as I continue my solitary walk.
Waiting for the moon to not be blurry any longer.
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