the full moon is soft behind the clouds,

it gazes down upon me, so small,

lost in this sea of frozen foam.

They say a full moon can make people do crazy things,

but tonight, I am alone.

I stand outside like a post, a sign,

waiting, hoping for the eyes of headlights to shine,

the gentle crunch of snow under foot,

but even the stars have drawn blankets around themselves,

and so the world sleeps.

If sleep is for dreamers, then what is dreaming for?

"Is there anybody out there?" barely uttered words

plunge through the silence and reverberate 

back to me.

I used to think I deserved the best.

But tonight, all I want is someone to share my bed,

to hold me still from thrashing,

to calm my winding mind with their breath.

Is there anybody here?

Only me and my words, a scattered melody,

a guitar player picking uncertainly at strings,

an actor without an audience,

a poet, in a land of people who cannot read,

a lonely girl, who is too afraid to speak. 

The End

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