the moon is haunting me.
it follows me around all day long,
hidden under baby blue baby blankets,
thick with lint balls from lives before I existed.
it is everywhere I look;
underneath beds that make too much noise,
behind dollhouses in empty houses,
the moon is in the eyes of every boy
who speaks to me in Brooklyn warehouses,
the walls are broken and the woodwork is revealed.
the heat is on full blast and smells like something burning.
their hands cusp their words and in them,
i see it,
full and bright,
blinding me.
it follows me around all day long,
hidden under baby blue baby blankets,
thick with lint balls from lives before I existed.
it is everywhere I look;
underneath beds that make too much noise,
behind dollhouses in empty houses,
the moon is in the eyes of every boy
who speaks to me in Brooklyn warehouses,
the walls are broken and the woodwork is revealed.
the heat is on full blast and smells like something burning.
their hands cusp their words and in them,
i see it,
full and bright,
blinding me.
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