some say that that the Moon is a mystical feminine spectral of lunar beauty
But I know better
You, mystical Adam of red meat bone & girth
You move me—-I’m dizzy, I’m under your sweltering magic
Like sonar in the sea, your moonlight has sacrificed itself inside of my pulpy mass
The burning veins that obey your machinations
How are you so high
As I am so low
It’s unfair how terribly my pulpy, soft insides twist when you move so close
Eternally close, fearfully far
Some say the poet goes mad writing to you
My Moon, I know better
About the Creator
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More stories from Melissa Ingoldsby and writers in Poets and other communities.
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By Lana V Lynx7 days ago in FYI
Comments (3)
I left reality and traveled. A very beautiful poem that looks through its own beautiful eyes.:))
An awesome poem! If only we could all be as high as the moon! I wonder if the moon smokes anything to get high… 😁
Oooo, that second last line, I especially loved that!