The night is restless orange, where is my moon
to cramp its meagre light into a sleepless page
with scents, once stabbing,
even when dust is dust?
I miss him.
What a pathetic sight.
I like this piece, it is resounding. I like that it's pretty dangerous to skirt the moon, i mean that's ground commonly trampled upon and used so poorly by the unwashed herd, but you have managed that exceptionally well with lines 3, 4, 5, 6,
they kind of kill me and they remind me of a Pliny the younger quote I came across where he was describing the eruption of mount Vesuvius and the people were beseeching death to have mercy on them.
That was death, this is life, but this is the kind of spot you have put me in.
The last lines are so plain and are such a testament to that (without love, i am nothing) type of summation.
I agree with the previous poster, you do get a bit swept up and feel like marrying that beautiful heart.
This is as good a poem as I could hope to read, honest, i love it.