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The Moth

The Moth

betrayed

would you then fall

away

and disappear

into the mountains

sit somewhere by the sea

and forget how forgotten

flowers fade in vases

ripe fruit rots

in the bowl

the wind is roaring

through the field

no trees to shield

or shelter

quiet is the night

that whispers early in the morn

and the birds are still singing their song

as the white moth dies a slow death at the door

and if I could talk to him

I’d ask him why

why does he keep coming back

to the flame

knowing he’ll get burned

time and again

is it because he’s stupid

or full of hope

or blind

or all of the above

who knows

or maybe after being burned

by so many beautiful brilliant bulbs

he just stopped feeling the singe

and became numb to it

this can happen overnight

which, of course, means the beautiful brilliant bulbs

can’t hurt him anymore

as he lies dying at my door

he doesn’t hurt anymore

‘cause he’s finally free

to fly

TL

Published inTamiko Lowery