the moon is so shy,
only appearing at night,
meekly peeking out from
the shadows, before returning.
even then, she can only
there is a hurricane inside of my head
that does not pass or ease up.
i try to stay in the eye of it, the safe zone,
since that’s where the burden is easiest.
but the winds are so strong, sometimes,
that i get blown off course into the storm.
i am reasonably sure there is gold
running through your veins,
the ichor of the gods.
your skin shines so brightly
that it hurts to look at you sometimes.
i never look away though,
like a child staring straight into the sun.