Prose
Dear, Moon. Content Warning.
Dear Moon, I’m writing because you feel like the only other one in this life that understands the texture of emptiness. You hover as a witness coldly carved out of stone. You shine like something that has already learned what it means to be alone. I wish I could tell you I see a way through the days, but most of the time they feel like repetitions of the same dull ache. There’s a kind of quiet suffering in simply existing when nothing pulls you forward. Yet somehow, I keep moving, even though the movement feels hollow.
By Dwight Manley12 months ago in Poets
