Poetry Moon

I do not know why we artists

involve the supermoon

into our work,

as if it was the reason

for our emptiness.

Fill up the screen with my nakedness

and burn me in your mind again

and again. Mark me.

You cracked my code

It was a complicated combination

filled with winding roads

and split up nations.

You nod your head

at my sensitivity

all you want is to get me in your bed

my body under your gravity.

I know how it feels

to come undone in seconds

to fall apart in red heels

to have all these bends

crooked love affairs

kissing by hidden stairs.

My back up against your wall

your hand rubbing my legs

my knees weak ready to fall.

You know how I taste

your hands around my waist

begging me for one more chance

seducing me with your trance

we know what this means

I am too smart

I want out of my jeans

and to be your tart.

I know it’s over before it begins

and nobody wins wins.

Yet I know how

seconds can become years.

So thank you

for waiting.

I never thought

you would.

The next time we meet could be

2036

the year of the moon poets

or never at all.

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