She was dark and mellow like the moon,
She found liberation in her solitude,
Perhaps she was a bit of a recluse,
It’s not that in isolation she found her fortitude,
But more so a sanctuary from the world’s abuse.
They were zealous and passionate like the sun,
They thrived on what she wished to live without,
They were kept alive by what tore her down,
These were the tragedies that she would write about,
Tales of toxic love that turned her soul to a ghost town.
Every month, she would lose herself for love,
Like the moon, she would slowly chip away,
A prisoner of hope, she would give it all away,
Thinking maybe this time, this anecdote will stay,
Praying she wouldn’t feel the need to runaway.
Without fail, each time, she would be forced to flee,
As soul crushing and shattering as it may be,
And without fail, each time, she would fall again,
Wishing for a glitch to break this chain and set her free,
For she had a way of finding things that could never be.
And in her dreams, she would sing,
“Find me an earth with two moons,
Where we could lie side-by-side in our golden cocoons,
Where I need not run from what is true,
Find me a me, to run home to.”
