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Lune

I stop for a moment and look up.

In front of me, I see a square window surrounded by chipping paint flakes and coated in a deep brown color; similar to the dark color of my soul.

The curiosity reels me in, and I’m standing directly in front of the window now, so close that I can open or close it.

I look up. There it is, I think. Above me was a round and majestic glowing figure that seemingly met me here, at this same spot, for years now.

Some call it The Moon.

To me, I don’t care what it is called, as it puts me in a trance when it’s around.

I’ve…fallen in love with this…thing.

It never fails me, nor abandons, nor shames.

It just exists and lets me live next to it, without any judgment.

“Edmund! Edmund!”

I hear my wife calling from the porch across the way. I hope she gets tired and gives up with that yelling. Her voice used to spark a flame in me; now, sometimes, it extinguishes it.

I look up one more time before I must go.

The Moon has drifted farther from where it last was, and a jolt of sadness arises in me.

“Edmund! Get over ‘ere I need yah!”

I take a deep breath in and one breath out. My hands are clenched, yet I slowly let the stress from my body go.

This is why The Moon and I meet every night.

We are not involved in some scandalous love affair; no, we are engaged in a community.

When I am with The Moon, I create and build mastery in my life. I build what I’ve lost with my wife…

We never may know where we go one day to the next – or what may happen tomorrow, or a minute from now.

At least I know the Moon stays consistent for me, and I for it.

“EDMUND!!”

I break my gaze with my new lover, shuffle over to the barn door, and see Millie on the porch, in her nightdress, looking beautiful. The way her hair naturally swayed in the wind was memorizing.

Until she opened her mouth.

As I headed across the field towards the house, I couldn’t seem to focus, because our home was now glazed over in Moonlight, like the Moon was giving me a gift of departure.

We will meet again, My Moon. Until tomorrow.

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The Smoking Woman

the last time i saw you

was years before you died

that big smirk, hazel eyes

wrinkled face, aged and wise

leaving your home, i reverse to see

the door ajar, peeking out at me

the smoking woman seeming carefree

dog in hand, both of you, short and gutsy

i wave goodbye, ‘i love you’ with glee

knowing one day i will miss this reality

the last time i saw her

almost two years has passed

my personal doomsday

an emotional bomb blast

i have no choice, i look at that day

as the other side gently making way

for the gutsy smoking woman

April 23rd, feast day