Comfortable Moon

moon1

And here I am, stood before you,
staring.
Your face a reflection of my own
as I struggle through uncharted lands
with no sun,
nor stars
to guide my tongue.

My eyes find yours and all else, is
darkness.

I’m buried, drowning in all the words
unheard,
unspoken as I store them in bottles,
waiting.

Your smile matches mine.
Gleaming,
shining and the dam cracks,
thoughts splutter and words burst forth
a torrent.

I promise you the moon. It’s clichéd,
irrational,
unattainable and something no one
else will endeavour to you,
your heart.

But the moon is cold.
Let me spark a warming fire
burning,
coloured by the dying embers
of sunset and heated with the passionate
fervour
of reconciled lovers at dawn.
I’ll sing and regale you stories
telling
tales and my breath will stir up a breeze
to give it life.

But its days are short.
I’ll make you a watch, giving us
time.
Tanning the strap from the silent moments
where we wish we’d taken a
moment
to hear, to listen.

But the moon is dark.
I’ll build you a lamp always
glowing
of glass with blue flame,
Matching those eyes,
bright
which so ensnared me.

But the moon is lonely.
I’ll give you my ears that you’ll
talk, be heard.
I give you my voice to console
and my eyes to behold
any – and all – that you’ll show me.

Dare they make us leave,
I’ll cast the watch to the fire,
burning,
bringing  a time that stands still.
I’ll-

Overhead the light flickers. I glance up and in that moment I lose you. Gone. The face staring back from the mirror is only my own. You’d never been so close. The words die in my throat and I know you’ll never hear them. With a heavy sigh I turn and leave my dreams shimmering in the mirror hoping, praying for the courage one day to tell you I care.

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