They call her strong

So she pours the coffee

They call her brave

So she paints another lipstick smile

They call her tough

So she grits her teeth through the pain

They call her courageous

So she puts on her cape

They call her compassionate

So she calls a grieving friend

They call her selfless

So she sets aside her plan

They call her capable

So she grabs her car keys

They call her persistent

So she opens the door

They call her competent

So she weaves through the traffic

They call her clever

So she narrowly avoids a fender bender

They call her caring

So she knocks on the door

They call her loving

So she reaches out to hug her friend

They call her attentive

So she listens to the fears

They call her empathetic

So she cries alongside

They call her helpful

So she puts together a meal train

They call her generous

So she is the first to cook

They call her faithful

So she says another prayer

They call her independent

So she dares not ask for help

They call her steadfast

So she dare not give up today

They call her reliable

So she does it all over again–tomorrow

The sting on her face, the bruises on her legs, the tears in her eyes, the rage in her heart.

"Never again!!" she shouts to an empty room.

The flowers, the hand to lift her off the floor, the tears in his eyes, the apology and promise that, "it'll never happen again".

The vicious cycle begins, once again.

This time a black eye, glass shards in her hands, a lump forming on the back of the head, and heart screaming to be heard--to be set free.

The lies are told to neighbors, friends, family and onlookers. "No, I just broke a dish"; "I just hit my head"; "I just fell down the stairs"; "I can be so clumsy."

But how do you lie to a 3 year-old? A little one standing at the door, clutching his teddy bear to his chest while listening to mommy's screams, daddy's shouts, and watching his daddy turn into the monsters, like on tv?

What kind of lie can hide the truth? No more lies!

Suitcases packed, secret bank account emptied, plane tickets bought with cash, new adventure on the horizon. Little boy hand in mama's bruised one. Big brown eyes searching deep grey ones. No questions asked, just ready for Never Again!

Shadows sweep the boulevards; Winding their way around lampposts,

Climbing along trellises, slinking up shop walls.

A single shadow, attached to human feet must get lonely.

Feeling cold, hard stones, metal and concrete along its edges only.

Darkness is simply the only time shadows can get together and play. Oh, the dances they dance, such a glorious array.

We humans truly miss out on the nighttime display,

Of laughter and gaiety in the streets once past day.

A shadow does not merely disappear

When the sun refuses to shine for a time.

Does something not exist just because we cannot see it?

Does it fail to exist all due to lack of [sun]shine?

But this, dear reader, is the timing of true mystique.

These are the things we shall miss if we stop too long to blink.

Soulmates find each other in this darkness at daylight’s end.

Meeting up in full moonlight, as the shadow dances descend.

The timbre of stars is like nothing a human ear could ever recount,

For it only alights when shadows abound.

How else to explain the ignition of touch,

That occurs when two “strangers” meet after the dusk?

Oh, dappy mortal, who thinks this mere fate.

Did you not realize your shadow had already found your mate?

When humanity steps back, permitting the ethereal its part. Well, this is when true romance is aware in the heart.

So upon next moon’s cycle, when dusk begins its measured fade,

Take a tiptoe out into moonlight’s cascade.

Beware ne’re to disturb, this ethereal dance,

But instead, simply view its gossamer beauty as pure happenstance.

For where mortal and spectral gaze upon one another,

The spell hence is broken, the magic disentangled.

Thus rendering the chance at true love eternally strangled.

But for those mere observers who catch a fleeting glimpse of the phantasmic,

urely will know love’s quintessential magic.

Shadows sweep the boulevards;

Winding their way around lampposts, Climbing along trellises, slinking up shop walls.

A single shadow, attached to human feet must get lonely.

Feeling cold, hard stones, metal and concrete along its edges only.

Darkness is simply the only time shadows can get together and play.

Oh, the dances they dance, such an array.

We truly miss out on the nighttime display. Of laughter and gaiety in the streets once past day.

A shadow does not merely disappear when the sun refuses to shine for a time.

Does something cease to exist just because we cannot see it?

Does it fail to exist all due to lack of [sun]shine?

But this, dear reader, is the timing of true mystique.

These are the things we shall miss if we stop too long to blink.

Soulmates found in this darkness at daylight's end.

Meeting up in full moonlight, as the shadow dance descenddescends.

The timbre of stars is like nothing a human ear could ever recount,

For it only alights when shadows abound.

How else to explain the ignition of touch that occurs when two "strangers" meet after the dusk?

Oh, dappy mortal, who thinks this mere fate.

Did you not realize your shadow had already found your mate?

When humanity steps back,

Permitting the ethereal its part.

This is when true romance is aware in the heart.

So upon next moon's cycle,

When dusk begins its measured fade,

Take a tiptoe out into moonlight's cascade.

Beware ne're to disturb, this ethereal dance, But instead, simply view the gossamer beauty as pure happenstance.

For where mortal and spectral gaze upon one another, the spell hence is broken,

the magic disentangled.

Thus rendering the chance at true love eternally strangled.

But for those mere observers who catch a fleeting glimpse of the phantasmic,

urely will know love's quintessential magic.

To those of us who lie awake

Each night amidst our thoughts.

Words aswimming against the stream

Just longing to be caught.

To those of us who grasp at rest

Just outside our reach.

As schemes are being hatched between

Our waking and our sleep.

To those of us who've donned the hats

Of more characters than we can count.

Who've travelled all the world round

While never leaving the living room couch.

To those who dream beyond their reach,

Who paint without the brush.

Creating something out of nothing

Too glorious to be touched.

A salute to all who live by the pen

Who know not when genius will strike.

Who have forgone the clock

And refuse to live

By such simple restraints as time.

To those whose hearts spill out unabashed

Like ink overturned on the page.

Who get cut time and time again

But can only bleed in black.

Adding myself to this rank of dreamers,

The ones who can't stay in the lines,

Has truly caused no grievance as such

For where else could I be genuine?

So here's to us:

The lovers, the seekers,

The wild eyed dreamers.

The ones playing tag on the moon.

Who leap across rooftops,

Play hide n' seek with the stars

Then softly land back in their rooms.

So let's raise a glass to the poets of old,

And those just starting to sprout.

For a world without you would be oh so dull,

Your creativity truly stands you out.

Shadows sweep the boulevards; winding their way around lampposts, climbing along trellises, slinking up shop walls.

A single shadow, attached to human feet must get lonely. Feeling cold, hard stones, metal and concrete along its edges only.

Darkness is simply the only time shadows can get together and play. Oh, the dances they dance, such an array.

We truly miss out on the nighttime display, of laughter and gaiety in the streets once past day.

A shadow does not merely disappear when the sun refuses to shine for a time. Does something not exist just because we cannot see it? Does it fail to exist all due to lack of [sun]shine?

But this, dear reader, is the timing of true mystique. These are the things we shall miss if we stop too long to blink.

Soulmates found in this darkness at daylight’s end. Meeting up in full moonlight, as the shadow dances descend.

The timbre of stars is like nothing a human ear could ever recount, for it only alights when shadows abound.

How else to explain the ignition of touch, that occurs when two “strangers” meet after the dusk?

Oh, dappy mortal, who thinks this mere fate. Did you not realize your shadow had already found your mate?

When humanity steps back, permitting the ethereal its part. Well, this is when true romance is aware in the heart.

So upon next moon’s cycle, when dusk begins its measured fade. Take a tiptoe out into moonlight’s cascade.

Beware ne’re to disturb, this ethereal dance, but instead simply view the gossamer beauty as pure happenstance.

For where mortal and spectral gaze upon one another, the spell hence is broken, the magic disentangled. Thus rendering the chance at true love eternally strangled.

But for those mere observers who catch a fleeting glimpse of the phantasmic, surely will know love’s quintessential magic.

"Where shall we dine tonight my dear?" Perhaps the same place we went all prior years?"

The look she gives her lover stokes him well beyond his complacency, as this year, he will win her heart back quite gracefully.

As the moon looks down and gives him a wink, saying this year you two are in for quite the treat.

First, he must lasso the moon for his bride, then carry her over the threshold inside.

Upon the top of that glorious orb, a simple, yet elegant table stands adorned.

Led to their seats by the most brilliant of stars, only to be waited upon by both Venus and Mars.

The menu is brief, yet would cause the finest of chefs to salivate.

For now the universe is ready to create the most scrumptious delights a palate could ever await.

The finest of wines from galaxies beyond, is delicately poured as the aforementioned planets respond.

The landscape is breathtaking, as earth becomes a mere dot, and everything once thought, becomes what is not.

A tea party with a hatter in a Wonderland of odd, has nothing on this celestial romance abroad.

This moontop dinner does not signal the end of this spectacular night, as they agree to explore each fascinating sight.

Commencing now with a meteor dance, which leads to a head-spinning shot at a mighty blackhole glance.

Skipping stones along the Milky Way's swirls, there's quite a good chance this boy could get lost with this girl.

Traveling hand-in-hand by the speed of light throughout space, only to to pulled back by that jolly old conspirator's magnetic embrace.

The moon whispers that their time must now end, for the sun threatens to shine and bring morning in.

Yet he leaves them with the most sage of advice, warning them to never lose sight of that spirit of life.

The same spirit that started their original spark, and whenever they feel it slipping away, they must find their way back to the dark.

The giant bulbous globe

Glows down through whispy clouds

At its prey.

“Tonight”, says it to the stars,

“Is my only chance

For another thirty days.

I am marred by a mere sliver

Most of the month.

And I must work quickly,

While still waxing my Gibbous state.

I am marred by a mere sliver

Most of the month.

And I must work

Each of you is gifted

By sight all around.

For me, it’s a cycle of waits.

My full strength abounds

For only one night.

Oh Chance, you’ thus gift me now and then.

With beams so perfect,

Brilliant and bright.

That I burst at my seams once again.

To the ones down below,

Apologies are sent,

But tonight this shift must take place.

For if my duties are forgone

If only this once.

Most certainly, ’twould end human race.

Forgive me dear ones

Who dwell on land far below. As I merely am turning my trade.

And instead of railing at each of my cycles, Perhaps instead, just this once--- Enjoy the light show on display."