Man In The Moon by Miss Steele

Miss Steele | April 10th, 2024 | poetry | No Comments


Writing was not my passion, nor music or poetry my obsession.
They were his; as I was his.

People, my people, those I allowed into my inner sanctum ’twas they who were my passion.
My time, energy, love and attention I poured into them. I cared for, nurtured and watched over them.

Always a full tank, on tap when and wherever they needed me.
But alas, in the end when they were all satiated the needle was always left on E.

From a time long gone and a place a million light years away I still hold a full cup for he who poured into me too.
My love, my twin, my man in the moon

Poet Bio

she is artwork and glory
she smells like cherries, spilt ink and thunderstorms

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