Even the Moon has Wreckage

I’m always testing the ones who love me

even though the number is few.

Sweet words are so foreign

I don’t trust them to be true.

Like the moon,

showing the world pretty bright lights

and hiding a part of itself never to be seen.

Letting people in is so hard when you know

They are so likely to go

after rubbernecking at the wreckage.

And bruises fade faster if no one keeps pressing into them.

WISHING WELLS

I have to come to terms

with that fact that 

you’ll never own up

to all that you put me through.

You deflect it enough that I wonder 

if I’m losing my mind again with you.

I’m trying to learn not to place the blame 

in dark places or wishing wells.

Sometimes they’re one in the same

but I’m done wishing on you.