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.
