Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Weight of the Moon

She ran down to the stream,

her hands covered in rose petals

her veins exploding against her too-thin-skin

luminescent under the reflection of the

pooling coolness.

The moon was talking now--

it's poetry stuck to her bones,

made her heavy and full

thrusted into her like newborn titalwaves

only easing to feel her body weaken

at the thought.

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