between living and being--

I had always percieved

a moonlit wound

raging within my clutched fists

I felt

a twilit whirlwind

winding slender strands of fragile dreams

around my tender fingers

my presence

bound to a mere pause

with the flattened sinews

of my heart

thin strand of me

snaking out

from a confused mush of emotion

my being

my soul shifts, my dreams linger

chunks of moon

rolled behind eager tongues-

and yet, our tenderness pauses

we halt before a moonlit wound

overflowing with moonshine

the beauty of a hiatus-

amidst evaporating twilight

and craters filled with stars

moonlit wound-

a pause between

living and being

dreams and dreaming

moonlit wounds

patched with

twilit dreams