Hanging down, a low starry sky,
and a moon dripping in silver sways.
A gentle shadow speaks back to me,
connecting without words but through silence,
a feeling of comfort that speaks volumes—
Tonight, I speak to you, just us and our misconnections.
Maybe I belong.
Maybe I don’t.
My faith in you descends
just as quickly as the moon leaves me.
Is it faith that stole my piece of mind?
“God will guide you,” they tell me
but is it wrong to feel mistreated, misguided?
We used to talk for hours, but now I ignore your calls.
Sitting, a familiar fluorescent light greets my face,
talking to the moon, searching for answers to lost questions.
If I were to scream Amen,
would I then be a better woman?
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