doesn't transcend
down to lips.
The quiver of fingers
doesn't translate
the fire in my veins.
The moon doesn't wink
at your instance.
The tongue doesn't roll
seamlessly with
wet verses when you
cross my mind.
Somewhere, our nest
feels abandoned.
The ship that was
supposed to cross the
seven seas, strands
in the middle.
The lullabies intended
to you get caught in the
sneezes to fizzle out.
And with failed will and
wings, any reciprocation
from you,
fails to take off.
I have repeatedly tried
to fix this.
But every attempt
is another excuse, that
causes more damage.
it feels hopeless,
I want to give up.
don't know if you'd
go or try to give this
another chance
but for now, this is
goodbye, Moonpie.
Before everything turns
to ashes, let's part
on a good note.
if this stands the test
of the times, maybe
we'll be left with a
a nostalgia we can keep
coming back.