You’d stain your hands with
Blood so you could
Keep a hold of the sun
That always looks like it’s
(It’s day here but for you
I guess it’s twilight,
Can you see the moon?)
Why do you always look at
It with loathing? Is it because it
Reminds you of you?
“I wish I could understand you.”
As I said that, you looked as though you would shatter.
I’m sorry. The sun doesn’t know how to kind. If I
Was better than I am I’d have asked you
If your gaze wasn’t so empty
Would you notice my hand
Reaching out for yours? (I wish you’d believe me
When I tell you I’m staying.)
We’re two sides of the same magnet, fused together
Yet kept apart;
We yearn for each other but we
Can never touch.
Is that why
You look up at the
Sky and say you want the sun, yet you’ll
Avert your eyes from it?
(If so, I’m the same.)
(Sometimes I get close to asking
What’s it like down your rabbit hole?
But I never do. I used to think it’s because
I was being considerate, but now I think
It’s mostly because I’m too scared to know
In case I let you know about mine.)
What a funny way to hold onto
Light; you tie it to your heart strings so
You can keep it
But you won’t look at it.
What a funny way to keep hold of
Was the sun in your eyes
that irritating that you’d look away
from it so it wouldn’t be blinding?
(Still, what can I say when I look at the moon the same?)