His Blue, Blue Moon

[thecrazybeautiful]

I think I write about the moon and stars too much, when it's about this person.

His Blue, Blue Moon

Crystalized, the moon hangs.
It's cold and he's there.

He waves at me, with his beautiful hands.

Stars reflect into his mirror eyes,
piercing me with rough edges.
I think he means to hurt me,
but I've been torn up before.

He throws me a shooting star;
I can only wish to wake up,
or for him to come to his senses
to pull me out of this nightmare.
When you dream about someone
you don't want to dream about,

it's sad.

I cry sometimes.
Blue, blue tears,
for his blue, blue moon.
They're not for him, no,
but for the memory
of the hope I once had.

He's talked the sun into
shining rays of the past,
only to haunt me.
Only to remind me,
I can only live, breathe, and feel
his name, flowing gently
through my veins.
Strong, but silent,
and ever so enchanting.

He digs into my heart
like it's his own territory.
Crater after crater,
I don't want him sinking in.
I tried building barriers,
but he's got a rocket ship,
and I've got false hopes.

He's heard through echos,
and seen in eclipses.

There's just no blocking him out.

[Laura]

"or for him to come to his senses
to pull me out of this nightmare"

--I love this idea.

Also,

"but he's got a rocket ship,
and I've got false hopes"

--really nicely written.

The repetition of blue is great too and used effectively. A nice write and yes, writing about the sky is lovely ... who cares if you write too much about it when it comes out like this, it's great.

[thecrazybeautiful]

I just don't wanna see his face when I look up into the sky...