The sun cries with sadness,
The searching of her moon is endless.
Circles like a carousel, following his footsteps.
The moon’s weeps are shallow
And tears line the floor and the clockwise rotation continues
Horses primed and painted
Going up and down
Flashing their baby blue saddles
As the chase continues.
The hum of their music continues
But the magnified sounds of tear drops smacking the floor
One by one line the melody.
With tired eyes the sun sighs,
‘Maybe another day.’
Nothing but deafening silence reaches his ears
The roar of her screams is silenced by the tears
Her voice comes out so small,
So quietly that the sound waves lacing the air miss it.
The moon cries a lonesome tear,
“Maybe we’re meant to stay half a world away.”
She lays her restless body in her bed,
“I suppose that you’re correct, moon. But we both know I’ll try again tomorrow.”
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This poem has been previously published on this website, and has made it to the semi-final round of the National Amateur Poetry Contest. I wrote this to show an unhealthy relationship and the desperation for love.