When the Next Full Moon Comes by Emily Chapa
When the next full moon comes,
I’ll think of a perfectly peppered smile.
I’ll think of the wool that held me in close and how, for once, I let myself go.
It was so wild.
When the next full moon comes,
May it smile down upon the memories of the last.
While I think of universal intertwining and cherish my bravery of letting one see through me, as if I were glass.
Though the hours were a mere glimpse of something feverish, that last full moon.
When the next full moon comes,
I’ll make a new memory.
I’ll stand as softly, in its brilliant glory, and brush my face with the lace of an unforgettable story.
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