moon

how i long for your glowing touch
against the november blue sky.
your air is crisp,
silent,
still.
everyone knows you by name, but i'm the only one who does by soul;
and your voice sings a melody that nobody but i can hear,
whispering and wavering in my heart.
nostalgia flows through my lungs with the soft scent of laundry detergent -
but is drowned out by the lighting of a cigarette and the clinking of empty glass.
comforting.
your eyes are more poetic than words could ever speak,
and your picture could never be captured.
you're the moon,
and i'm nothing but a star.

01/03/23
- ch.rlie