Luna

the girl that was the moon
is in love with your words

even though you’ve had the girl that was the sun
and I, only you:
the boy that was the boy

I want to again shimmer, brilliant, in the sky
and I need your affection to lift me there

once there, seated atop the ladder you constructed
made from your own flimsy, naïve heart strings
I would roll up the ladder before you could join me

for the girl that was the moon
knows only of being the moon –

gently circling a greater mass
from a safe distance; visible but intangible

gradually, silently,
slipping gracefully away