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walking home with red-stained lips
and a phone-light to see where i am walking
are street lights a thing

when i see the moon i almost fall over
all big and kind of orange
looming

the moon reminds me of things
whispering "i am nothing and that is okay"

i feel melodramatic
and laugh at myself
moving my hands over my face

hiding from the moon because the moon is big
and i am small

i am just a person walking around on a planet
and life is not inherently good or bad
it just is
i am not a moon or a star or a galaxy

i have the same value as a blade of grass
but i would like to be a blade of grass

the moon made me think
what does it really mean to know yourself

freckles on my lips and knees
instinctively letting my hair fall this way or that
scars and what made them
looking extremely sad on buses
dispositions

i can draw my own hands from memory

the moon is making the sky orange
the moon is leaking

it is cold
i press my body up against the wind
letting it kiss me

i've got my jacket on
hands in pockets

up on my tip toes

stretching up towards
the orange moon