Silence Gives Consent Poem by Wes Thompson

tonight he compares himself
to the moon
slender
and so frail
dissolving into the relentless depth
against which it kneels
until hardly existing at all
how romantic
he thinks
to find beauty in loneliness
but pretty words can make
anything
seem desirable
he is but a coward
whose dreams have long since left him
whether he can sleep
or not
and what remains
is neither consequence
nor action
dismissing the concept of regret
he has but one rebuke to reason
a fate to which he so desperately
clings
through dragging days and haunted nights
at least he appeared
so sincere
they will never forgive him for that