moon and cypress

i was the
moon
she was a
cypress
with her long hair
gently trailing
the muddy water
incapable of seeing
my image
in the dull brown
flow
her toes dug deep
in the eroded soil
as i sat
fat and foolish
upon the clouds
mourning a loss
high below her

her wood grained
inoculation
frozen in place
only the spanish moss
flutters
showing life
in the still
dead world
my cratered need
to self implode
in silent screams
that cannot pierce
the vacuum
wrapped
as a membrane
around my
unresponsive
heartsputter

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