blood moon

The moon is red tonight, my love,
red and smelling like dying roses,
like the roots of dreams crushed by the falling of dawn,
by the weight of light upon our blue eyelids.
The moon is red
like the paths of wine flowing
flooding
splendiferous
the screams beneath our conscience.
Red like the sweat dripping from our postponed orgasms,
red like the gorgeous dramas
disjointed from the words framing our voices
framing our lips
our gazes.
The moon is red
and so is our numbness,
contouring seconds upon our skins.
We are trapped in the blissfulness of the “now” and
unwilling to renounce our salty sand.
The moon is red tonight, my love,
and so is our silence.

 

© 2015 Liliana Negoi

Comments
One Response to “blood moon”
  1. Mark Heathcote says:

    Enjoyed your poem my friend nice one!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: