-
I spill myself
Into the moon
Every month.
When it is full,
I am empty;
When it is new,
It sits on my desk
Next to the sun.
The moon speaks to me
About all the times
It’s been kissed by us.
How it swings
And longs
For us again
I sometimes put things I've written here. Otherwise it's a collection of stuff I think is cool.
