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The Crescent Moon

My sensitivity flew over your head like a supersonic jet you could never catch.

And it’s perfectly okay if you could never fit in my shoes and see the world like I do, feel the world like I do, dive in vulnerability like I do.

Sorry that I burned your fingers when you turned my emotions into the hot dry sand slipping through your hands.

And the next time if my lungs fill up with poison of loneliness and my white pines are on fire, I will find my own air and water.

I know it would be easy for you if I would have been the perfect full moon piercing through the sky, easy to apprehend and understand.

But I am unapologetically the crescent moon, one side in darkness and one in light, imperfectly perfect, calm and shy, difficult to understand but will love you over the sky.

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