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May 27

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La Luna

Pale blue eyes, you’re here

Painting poems in my head, weaving secrets in my soul.

I write to you, with my chocolate pen,

on tip toes, like a blind man on the edge of a precipice.

My makeup melts in front of you,

I’m just a clown with no more jokes to share

And yet you laugh,

Until she comes, and smiles at you

White dress, earrings, beauty, flair.

 

Lips turn blue, you’re gone.

Nothing but your  perfume to fill the space you left

I circle your house, a wilted sunflower

Begging with no hands, singing silently.

Then, unexpectedly,

The Moon starts barking.

Tap water got us drunk.

But we won’t tell them how it happened.

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  1. Marc

    I love this, Vale! I don’t really understand what happened at the end, but I am quite happy not to. (It’s a good kind of not understanding.)

    I think this poem is delicious. :-)

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