What The Moon Knows

It shines through her window. The sun's widow. Tears pepper the floor and sparkle in the sky. She begs to know why. Who she wishes to be and grow? Only the moon knows. "Petal, my love," The faux voice softer than a dove. "Unlock the door?" She'd rather go to war. What she wants to see and show? Only the moon knows. Metronome-esque taunts. The ghost of her love haunts. The clouds sing as she breathes, whistling her soul's tune and dreams. Why her heart does not dance and glow? Only the moon knows. Popping a bottle and pouring a glass. Unlearning the shit they taught in mass. Scribbling eyes on the walls in permanent pen. Ears spurting rouge as she inhales her ambien. Where her loyalties lie and the love she bestows. Only the moon knows. Having sex with her demons. Red, blue. Red, blue. Flashing beacons. What she does in that room. Misted in gloom. What she twists on her loom. And the battles she preaches and booms. When the door locks and close. Only the moon knows.