Luna Moon

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I don’t want to deal with this cold anymore.
These rains are not snowfall, they are only cold bullets.
I don’t want to deal with this broken heart anymore.
This flesh is getting sometimes a bit too hard to carry.
I don’t want to deal with twisted arteries and highways.
If only I could see you soon.
I’m sick of tickets and train fares.
I don’t want to want for the sake of want.
I don’t need material or fabric.
I am not vanity, nor am I pride.
I am perfect, perfect as the moon pushes out the tide.
The neon of Wildwoods is alive, but nobody is at the beach,
nobody is alive.
And this world will go back out with the tides,
crash upon those rocks and bring me some sunshine.
Untainted by the gas and hum of the motorist.
Untainted by the people, the process.
If only I could see you soon.
Oh little moon.

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Filed under Moon, Poetry, writing