In nights that pass
sopping in blue moonlight and striped with
the white glow of fake-moon streetlights,
I am so reminded of nights in my shining city
that I sit with eyes shut, blocking them out,
hoping my heart will do the same.
The keen missing
swirls, aches like hunger pangs
that claw their way out of my belly
and leave little holes in my flesh,
letting my soul leak out a little more every time
I am reminded of my far away home.
Moving on from a place is hard
when you don’t want to let go.
– Mary Goodger