The moon's quiet sorrw
They, without a trace of shame,
painted their hearts with the crimson blood of their lovers’ lips.
And I… my only share was the cold blue of the moon,
spilled carelessly,
like a tear severed from the sky,
upon my cheeks.
Those drops sank into the ridges of my heart,
painting my eyes with a lifeless gleam,
and the moon’s quiet sorrow wound through my soul
at 3 A.M.,
before I surrendered to sleep.
I was fragile beneath the blade of the sun,
and the conqueror of stars
that dared not draw near.
Copyright © Hannah Nyxnah | Year Posted 2025
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment