can't fight the moonlight: the full song

[deadwine]

howl at the moon a little more convincingly: if a ballade is also 28 lines why not call it double the sonnet instead

Every passing moon is lonelier than the last, but whose fault is this vacant screaming, this hollow rattling inside your chest?

Nobody’s listening, you cry,

But you know exactly who plucked your audience of one out of the sky,

Don’t you?

Isn’t it a marvel?

What is?

How I couldn’t fit all of me into the belly of your desire,

But the whole of you fits into the palm of my hand.

There is an ocean, there always is one.

Because I've never been loved like that before.

There is a boat by that ocean.

Because I've never been loved like that before.

Only the seamen know how a boat unmoors:

you may stand at the harbour all your life but your feet will neither anchor nor sail.

They will only draw debris to your heels

until you are more sediment than yourself.

You recast yourself as ocean, river, sea and unsailing, sinking boat;

But never the rain.

You see, its vastness never took the shape of a body you could morph into,

Hoping to be reborn as that which doesn’t know what it is to be afraid.

What came first: the chicken or the egg?

Did not your heart pump blood to your neck before what was gushing pulled at the drawstrings of your arteries?

Has not the fear of monsters always birthed more monsters?

What seeded the first seed if not desire?

Will you empty your cups so I can pour into them till they run over?

Will you ask me not for hunger, but instead, allow yourself to be sated;

If tomorrow all we have left is dust and ashes, then, even then,

Would you still let me drink from the chalice of your hands?