Why Cant I Have The Moon
i bleed out on a cold bed of grass,
gazing at the white moon twinkling through dark grey clouds.
i feel empty, completely drained of blood.
Will I ever feel again?
Will these wounds ever stop screaming?
I don’t want to keep living in a world
that keeps tearing at what’s left of me.
So I give myself to the moon,
let its pale light soak up
the pieces I can’t hold anymore.
i sink further into a pool of my own blood,
waiting for a word, a reason, one cloud to whisper hope.
the moon is all i have,
its divine glow, the last light on this dark midnight.
the moon whispers soothing words to me, through the breeze that is sliding between the trees,
gliding along the trembling grass,
landing in my ear.
led in this field,
slowing bleeding out from these wounds you left behind.
my mind teases me with the life i just lost,
the past moments now to be precious memories.
the same question sits there playing on my mind,
“why cant i just have the moon?”
all these wounds would be healed if i could just reach out and touch the moon,
if i could reach out, and touch you,
just like before,
when i held your hand in mine,
how i wish now i held on tighter, and longer,
how i wish i never let you slip out of my reach.
now this bed of grass holds my wounded body and comforts my extinguished soul, the way you longer can.
Copyright © Robert Moran | Year Posted 2025
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