My chest still bears
the scars of birthing
moon promises
nested too near my heart.
She asked me to sing
her an old fashion lullaby
but my heart slipped away
into my own lost love story..
so I ended up telling her the story
of old man moon
eating too many wishful stars,
hoping she would understand
that all those fairy tales scrawled
on little girl’s hearts
are too often their undoing.
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