Under pink skies and the waxing crescent moon 

You build a worn and well-torn tune 

Tugging at my heart’s dainty and delicate strings 

you mold my stomach into clusters of wild butterfly wings

The saccharine September air

 playfully sweeps my hair 

As you throw me onto the ferris wheel in motion

and peel me down to scattered shards of my brain in which you ignite a new blazing emotion 

We are the ferris wheels, spinning and spinning and falling and falling

until I’m suddenly spinning and spinning and falling and falling

alone. 

Deeper and deeper into an abyss of 

dizzy disappointment and expired love.

I soak up the coruscating bulb in the sky 

until a million lost and luminous moons blanket my eye

The world around me blurs

but I let it because after all, it’s the smaller version of hers.

It turns out the moon wasn’t the only one who hid a piece of himself that night 

and every little thing won’t be alright  

But I’ll keep spinning and spinning

and falling and falling.

And as the fervent ferris wheel in my heart topples and turns and pounds out your twisted heart’s tune

I simply gaze at tonight’s hiding full moon