Sunday, April 17, 2011

The Moon

Oh my moon
tense and shaken
bones growing backwards

Can my love really save you?
Swallow you
whole
keep you
safe

The smell of beer on your smiling face is enough
to keep me
occupied

Your
young body
and words wise
could strangle my will

Let's run away
I've lassoed the moon

You owe my heart
still

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