Moonlight

In moonlight's shadow elegantly blue

with icy hues of purple shaded through.

But Is she lovely, like a confidant?

A glowing goddess guarding in the night

and guiding by illuminating darkness?

Or watching like a spy, observantly

recording all the things you hide inside

from the blaring glares ripping through daylight?

But in the intimacy of the night,

when she, the moon, is stripped of her disguise,

her curves, like whispers, do they draw you in?

Or do you stand authentically exposed?

For in her nakedness both shame and pride

find solace in exotic fires, burning.

In darkness, so they say, needs light to shine,

and in its absence truth remains obscure.

So is your darkness a truth that sets you free,

or a closet where you hide your ecstasy?