s h e .

Goodnight Moon

By Dani Leshgold 


i won’t write celestial metaphors anymore.

won’t write about isolated stars.

won’t write love letters to the moon

like an uncertain daughter begging

for validation.

won’t call him the sun to my moon

because i need him to outshine me.

won’t need him to incinerate me.

won’t need stars when i’m blinded by fluorescent lightbulbs.

when i’m buried in a cathedral of yellowed teeth and stretch marks.

when walking feels like a treadmill.

when i can drown in storm drains

but not my own eyes.

i can’t go

four minutes without looking in the mirror.

i think i’m a narcissist.

then i let him incinerate me again. i’m an isolated star. goodnight moon.

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