Even you

You leave and you return,
You leave and you return,
And all the days pass by soon,
But, in the dark, you all leave
And silence plays its eerie tune.

They say, lovers leave and should,
If anyone knows, you would;
But there are some who return;
That happens rare and, mostly,
In loneliness, alone you shall burn.

You have seen the moon shining bright,
It oft becomes the sole centre of night,
All rave on her beauty and swoon;
But, on the darkest night, she leaves –
Even the moon leaves, even the moon.

So laugh, while you can, and fuck and eat
And, if you can, go ahead and repeat;
Because everyone leaves and this is true;
And in the darkest hours of deceit
Even you could leave, and yes, so will you.

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A Certain Sun

The morning gives me no solace:
It has come with heat and light
And I find myself asking
For the dark horns of the night.

Then I find love, soaked in desire,
Wrapped up in your arms and hair,
Smells of burgers and coffee,
Snarled sheets hiding all that’s bare.

The sun brings in the future,
The future has torn the heart,
Time sheds light on the knowledge,
That soon you and I must part.

Families, jobs, money wait;
The sun brings them all back in;
I fear what the world might say,
How you were lead in to sin.

The sun burns my exposed skin,
All hair shines like molten fire;
The sun just shows me the truth,
The stars just show me desire.

I could wait for the next moon:
Who knows just what I might get;
But memories of ones before
Depend on how soon you’ll forget.

The sun barges through the window.
I lean back and draw the curtain.
I note: it’s only his return
Of which I am fully certain.

Futile Promises – A Moon Song

It’s five in the morning
The moon hangs over a cloud:
Just as lonesome as I,
Wondering, if silence is just as loud
As a future goodbye.

I have no promises to fulfill;
You have none that you can keep;
The moon whispers none to me:
Gives me no certainty of sleep,
And of rest, no guarantee.

I shall see you again now;
But, after a while, you will disappear.
There will be just me and the moon
And it has always been clear:
A heartbreak is due very soon.

Promises are futile. They break.
Once there is a parting, it is done.
Love has no say in the sundering.
All will be left to dry out in the sun
As stark daylight comes plundering.

It will charge out, in a dust and a storm,
And words will be torn and taken,
To different lands and different skies,
And I shall once again awaken,
When the cruel sun tires out and dies.