The moon and the moment

[ButrosButros_Grantos]

The night is frail magic
Common sense could break its spell
But, who am I to quarrel with
A delicate string of moonlight
Metamorphosing the moment
Until, this visitor beside me
Resembles someone I once knew.

It’s the immeasurable
Length of a few wisps of hair
How they caress her ear
And corkscrew out
And up
And downwards
And enmesh my fingers

A hackle of perplexity.
Do I feel for the stranger?
Or rather, still long for the phantasm.
Is this love? Or merely
Loving love so much I can fake it.

The moon and moment pass.
Stranger’s eyes open, spectre takes flight.
She mouths three words at me
Echoes I thought I wanted to hear, but
They have lost all significance.

 

[Dead_Flowers]

I really liked this. The first verse is amazing, and the whole piece is really involving and moving. My only qualm is that I think it's a bit "wordy" at points (metamorphosing, hackle, etc.). More commonplace words, I think, would be more fitting.

This is really great writing.

 

[Sziontist]

this poem is surely not frail magic. beautiful, haunting, endearing.

 

[up all night]

People often say in Words that someone is getting better and better, but for once I know that 'better' is not far off the mark.

This is beautiful. Stone hearts can't create beauty, no matter what Oscar Wilde thinks.