1. It Only Lends Itself To Dream

To Luna: Neither Love nor Infatuation

 

Is it the

suffering that

makes this love

exist at these

weeping worth

intensities

 

This fodder

for one who

dreams

Waking washing

away such a vivid

reality

 

This is not for

those still living

Gut-wrenching

rippling blood

into a half-full

heart

 

Weak and powerless

The depth makes

tear-less eyes bleed

Even in wanting

death, life becomes

indistinguishable

 

As it levels

out a waking

heart left half-empty

 

As if this could

only exist in dreams,

There’s even less

now left in the land

for the living

 

Whether or not

Deathe shrouds

sleepers in immortal

dream

 

As if sleeping

now gives glimpses

in such lucidity

and well they could

not repeat themselves

 

How apt that I

only desire to e’er

sleep with You.

 

For these love-filled

dreams, make the waking

suffer and all no longer worth

seeing

Now even more illusory

than dream.

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