Kissing the Crescent

Oh, my crescent Moon, your elegance shows itself in the most important times of my pressing hour. I have no bedrock that can hold me like you do. You weave the pink and blue skies, mixing colors underneath the night's palette. The boils of the city don't see you, but I do. I look up with a stiff neck to lock myself with the hope of eternity, but I tire out and return back to the soreness of my life, that renders me empty.