The Moon

Savannah Pierce
I stare in silence at the moon.
The thought of you fills me with stress.
Yet I’m stuck in this madness, an asylum.
I just need to make it to the morning,
when what’s left of you will burn,
but I'm filled with dread; you’re far too precious.

But to those that care, I’m also precious.

Some days I wish I could escape to the moon.
On the way, I'd probably burn,
being far from you gives me stress,
and I feel my heart go into mourning.
Because of you, I'm still trapped in this asylum.

I dreamed you were in my asylum.

You would make time so much more precious.
I awake from my dream in the morning,
no longer able to stare at the moon.
My heart pounds from all the stress,
and all I want is for the memory of you, to burn.

Inside I feel like I'm burning.

My head is an asylum.
I'm drowning in the stress.
You made me feel so beautiful, so precious.
To you, I held the beauty of the moon.
Now I'm left to mourn.

I remember waking to a “good morning.”

And how at night your touch would burn.
Your name would fall from my lips as I called to the moon.
The day I was free from an asylum.
You held me in your arms: I was precious.
The only time I had no stress.

Now I hear your name and my heart races with stress.

I can’t get out of bed in the morning.
Nothing feels precious.
I hold all our photos over a flame to burn.
I live in an asylum;
and my only companion is the moon.