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Half Moon

One star and half a moon 
in the purple sky tonight. 
Half a mind, half a heart, 
half a soul, half life.

A pain so big inside, 
I can’t help but cry 
for the hope gone. 
For the golden round 
lost underground. 

The pain feels full 
but absent, 
present piercing tragic 
to me 
she was pure magic. 

A light that shone 
into my heart. 
I felt the pull so palpable, 
attaching now 
such detachment 
leaves me empty, 

and the moon 
once so beautiful
and full of wonder
holds only 
memories absent.





◄ Will

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sat 22nd Apr 2017 20:39

I took effort to read this through three times, and each reading seemed better than the one prior. I can only think that the original scan confused me with the visual layout of the words themselves. But I stuck with it.

And I grew intrigued with the interplay of words which turn upon themselves in metaphor. At least, I think they do. And now, I quite like this poem.

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