When the Moon is Hidden


On nights like this,

when the moon is hidden

from my blinded eyes

and the foggy kiss

of memories unbidden

release from me a thousand sighs

I can’t help but hope.


My heart is holy, like swiss

but my mind is riddled,grief-ridden

by unholy hell hounds, spies

from the past that I miss

even though I know it’s forbidden,

I can’t help but hear her cries

and I don’t know if I can cope.


I yearn for it, for that bliss

as if I deserved it, though I didn’t

on account of all the lies

though truthfully I would be remiss

to forget that I was overridden

by the fact I couldn’t compromise,

unable to explain to her the scope.







2 thoughts on “When the Moon is Hidden

  1. I believe this poem is every bit as intense and fervent as “Broken Girl”. Different, of course, but you write words that the heart understands better than the mind dies. Excellent.

    The Scribbler

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