He said that he wanted to buy me the moon
as we sat by a fire that fell into ash.
I told him he should and then gave him a kiss –
but we all know the happiest moments don’t last.
I was wearing a dress of sapphire blue,
and he wore a promise that shone in his eye.
The months seemed to pass in the blink of an eye
when we danced and we laughed under envious moon
and he picked me red roses and violets of blue,
our time simply burning, no sign of ash.
He would stare at me too, each gaze longer than last
and we ended each night with one passionate kiss.
It’s this I remember. The imprint of his kiss.
This and the serious look in his eye
when he told me he wanted our pairing to last.
I tried on the ring and looked up at the moon
all before smiles were turned into ash –
all before drowning in cyclical blue.
He looked like a prince, dressed in Navy blue,
Like a picture so perfect you’d give it a kiss.
Like a real man made from the dust and the ash.
He whispered to me with a wink of his eye,
“No matter how far, we see the same moon.”
The sailors all boarded, and he was the last.
How funny that word is; how when we say “last”
we don’t mean it. Did you know the ocean’s not blue,
but it’s black and obeys only sinful, sweet moon?
I feel like I’m waiting for not but the kiss
of the reaper himself. There’s no light in my eye
And my smile is forever colored in ash.
Any words I might say become ash
in my mouth. I know it’s the very last
thing he would want, but when I shut my eye
I can’t help it. My heart pumps blood blue.
“Darling, I love you. Give me a kiss?”
I can still hear his voice; a cruel trick of the moon.
Ocean swims in my eye now, a sickening blue.
As I hold him in ash and think of each last,
I kiss promise goodbye and I wish for the moon.