mirrored moon rose

beyond a glimpse

and filled that darken void

with illumination,

clouds retracted

as if pulled on strings,

sky marionettes

of many shapes and forms

attempts to disclose

the opal modesty,

beneath dehydrated

of it’s light,

lakeside captured images

in mind and water,

fragmented moments

of illusion lit by synapses,

bare flesh 

prickled by cold

still unresponsive,

to all kisses and touch,

butterfly fingers finding

a life of there own,

yet nothing,

plans had gone awry,

sequences had not been 


yet the result same,

celebrating with whiskey

would be drawn

into unclean glasses,

a toast to sky

and what galaxies lay


tomorrow would be fulfilled

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