9|30

The moon is always on my shoulder hanging softly as I sleep. 

I look for her when I awake from the peril of midnight heat. 

In that dark I ask aloud if this life is all I get. 

The moon turns bright, I turn to cry before the answer sets. 

My heartbeat now feels choking and like a mimicry. 

I write this night like every other as just a painful dream. 

When morning comes, I feel the sun though I only see its shine. 

I miss the moon and the things she gives, the way the night is mine. 

I cary her light inside my chest to keep the midnight nigh. 

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