to whom i consider lunar

So I wait as your crescent wanes and waxes.

And you crack open eggshells and still in your closet,

stirring your saturnine moonshine, dwelling on Jupiter’s gas.

Now I stroke orbits of mercury left in your haunting,

wishing it a phase, praying my tears be rosaries instead of

tarot cards for death. Because in a fortnight I gravitate,

towards star-crossed vows of your sweet slumber. Because of

galaxies between your fingers murmuring “home”

when I lace your hands with mine. Because you beckon

me as your tender-skinned sun. We could retrace constellations

for you to be my only moon but now your tides refuse,

So I wait as your crescent wanes and waxes.

 ◐ ◑ ◒ ◓

So I wait as your crescent waxes and wanes,

for you to be my only moon but now your tides refuse

me as your tender-skinned sun. We could retrace constellations

when I lace your hands with mine. Because you beckon

galaxies between your fingers murmuring “home”

towards star-crossed vows of your sweet slumber. Because of

tarot cards for death. Because in a fortnight I gravitate,

wishing it a phase, praying my tears be rosaries. Instead,

now I stroke orbits of mercury left in your haunting,

stirring your saturnine moonshine, dwelling on Jupiter’s gas.

And you crack open eggshells and still in your closet,

So I wait as your crescent waxes and wanes.