Petals of the Acid Moon – Day 22

The moon tonight is sharp enough to burn,
prick and slice, a rosy scythe.
Sunsets bleed and fall soft like knives–
close your eyes, stars billow down,
thrown tidal winds crash, dream.
Away float moonbeams over broken waves–
tiny holes pierce the firmament,
rend and blaze, bloom and perish.

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