(no subject)

[amo_invitus]

this harvest moon has bore much and sorrow
reaped of love and lover's squalor
frozen nights baring lonely stars
now look back with bitter glare
and where once lovers laid
enjoyed in new whimsey's solace
now stretch so bare
discontent in this season made
by those same hands clasped in psalm
and twined in touch
one for love and one for lust