Crescent Moon

A lonely crescent Moon,
To hang my heart upon,
If I thread it with a gold ring
Strong enough to bear the weight?

Then you would see it, dangling there,
A silken, swollen teardrop of lust,
Calling your name.

Begging you to come and stretch,
Reach your fingers high till they hurt,
Straining, working, with little pops and pulls,
Till you can feel it so alive and whole.

So warm and greedy in your hand,
Waiting for you to loop it fast,
So neatly by your heart.

And all that’s left is some sorrow now
For the lonely crescent Moon.