i look at the moon, nostalgic;
its silver glow, is a quiet wound.
we watched it together, sometimes;
with stones scattered, and hearts aligned.
i belonged with her, or so i thought;
the rhythmic tides would nurture me,
her intense phases would teach me.
today is full moon, bold and bright.
its light used to caress me,
but now is a bittersweet ache,
it reminds me of her gentle face.
the truth is unkind; i cherished my rose,
and her delicate thorns.
