Man in the Moon

A hooker for the Moon;

I dress exclusively

For his silver beams

That compel me… …

A beacon to the night,

My heart dominated,

My secrets bequeathed.

Tears exposed to escape

In liquid diamond

Rivulets that gather upon my chin.

The man in the moon

Allures me… …

Wholly draws me in to

His transcendental self.

I sit to bask in his beauty

Mesmerized by the touch

Of his cool encompassing embrace

If it were but real… …

Real arms encircling me

True warmth

The feel of a heartbeat

Pulsing through strong veins;

A non-mythical thing

Out of my reach

Is not what I long for, Man in the Moon.

So cease these game that

Coerce and restrain me in your gaze

Continue your ‘hide-n-seek’ with the sun

For my warmth I’ll not give up to you.

 

~Angela Beck