stretching its blues upon the sky.
Tender moments with you
are lost under the weight of this night.
I think of your wavering heart and this
elastic space between us;
It’s strange how space expands and contracts
with each laughter, each tear,
each loving word, or frustrated tone.
If I could turn the shade of the moon,
I would paint it white,
brighter than the whitest white you’ve ever seen.
Will that make it easier for you to see me?
Or will you still be afraid of the dark?
© 2012 Helena Malheur