Murphy's Law

Here we stand, upon jet black sands:
the waves keep time with the fragile throbs
of both our wanting hearts;
beating the grains ever smaller.

Our moon, Luna: high above us both,
as she quietly listens to the roll of tears
down our warm cheeks.
She tastes them to find the desires they hold;
ones that can't be had.

Never can they be had.

The sky, looking on, swells in sadness and weeps in the distance; trying to hide its sympathy from our eyes:

Thank you, Sky.
Thank you for trying.

Doesn't she look beautiful, Luna?
How blue her eyes are in your light.
Isn't she lovely when Sky moves her hair, sweet moon?
Watch how it flows so softly; so right.

Watch what I only see in dreams,
some nights.

The lucky, painful nights when I get to hold her before waking to find her gone.
The tender warmth as I behold her; sucked away each coming dawn.
The happy dreams I get to live, amidst the nightmares to which I'm prone.
All I ask is her company: a little more before I'm left alone.

But the more I see her, the more I call.
The more I love her, the more I fall.
The more I want her, the more I crawl.

Love: the key to Murphy's Law.