She's Only Alive Under a Full Moon

She speaks of darkness gently

as if it were made of silk,

or brittle secrets kept by children.

A life so content on wasting away

on things less than living,

short of breathing.

A heart that wanders to things

mysterious and weighty,

before being crushed like a black hole

she tramples through the sunshine

with her head up high

like every ray was a badge on her chest.

She knows a little song she floats to

accompanied by streetlights

bowing to court her, ever so.
and the long, loving gaze of the moon

softly pushes the tides to and from her feet

as she dances through the sands

to find the dawn.