Drinking Under the Moon

"Poetry and hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. All you can do is go where they can find you" – A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

Twinkly Eyes

I am consumed by the darkness I find in you
that is subsuming the light beneath those twinkly eyes.

I’m most taken, I think, by your trouble and woes,
that fray at the edges of those innocent clothes.

Don’t forget, beautiful one, that I saw you at night
when the sun cannot make you so dazzling white.

I want to delve deeper to the jaws of your curse,
to wriggle around and see who will draw first.

This Hyde you have excites my soul,
it promises exile from the propreiotous droll.

You are cloaked by a shyness that shirks off my art,
I’m courting a vagabond who closed off his heart.

But you fogged up my glasses for all other swain,
condensed by the promise of loving again.

I’d give you my heart in a box if you asked,
but, cinderella man, I fear our midnight has passed

those deamons have whisked you away through the black,
I get the train of your cloak as I howl at your back.

The feather moon curls away from my calls
as a heart groans and aches from numerous falls.

My candle like love has burnt throughout the wick,
it’s sentimental sweetness smells heavy and thick.

I’ve held out for you though, Twinkly Eyes
there is no harm done, it is the best of goodbyes.


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