I sat alone in the dark,
drinking coffee,
nursing old wounds and new.
I thought of the way things used to be-
when I had you.
When I had you, the sun shone brightly,
my head was in a swoon,
when I held you tightly.
We sang the same tune,
and I thought you’d hung the moon.
Now I’m alone in the dark,
as I sit and croon.
I used to be happy as a lark
But, I still think you
hung the moon.
What an amazingly transferable experience reading your poem was, I often do the same lol, love the line “you hung the moon” reminds me of a line from “in search of the miraculous” where Ouspensky reminds us that we are all food for the moon.
Thank you Sean. I appreciate your feedback.