There are two moons,
the one I used to cut my wrist
and the one that followed me home,
bathing my blood in silver light,
its round-eyed innocence gone.
My skin glowed white, hemoglobin
starved, celestial, cementing
my place in the firmament,
so that the universe cried with me,
cratering all the worlds with its tears.

01/16/2011

Author's Note: Inspired by one Christina Gleason and one Natasha Khan.

Posted on 01/16/2011
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