Looking to the Moon

i’m just a girl
looking to the moon
to heal me,
to breathe me in
and take my life
and make it something
useful.
make me into
a guiding light
for those
who are
lost
like
me
in a world
of hate and
greed and
heartbreak.
spread my energy
into the crystals
hanging by
the lovers’ hearts
and adorning
the hippies’ wrists
and gleaming on
the fingers of those
desperately in need
of strength or
clarity or
whatever the cards
that come with
their jewelry
says.
these days
i feel dull
and
broken
and i’m
looking to the moon
to transform me,
to make me
feel,
to make me
alive.

alive

even when she falls apart,
she knows she’s got it together
because instead of reaching for
a knife, she reaches for her pen
and spills ink instead of blood.
she lets her emotions run free
rather than locking them in
a fragile cage with no key,
where they batter against the bars,
the metal twisting and screeching.
she’s no longer trapped,
no longer a slave to her mind;
she broke all the locks
and let herself be wild,
weird and unapologetically
alive.