Toys On The Moon (Chapter Five) (Personal Juliet) Poem by A Waltz For Zizi

Even god prays to you
when he's sacred of my nightmares
god like woman,
proud and beautiful at the same time
like a white and freckled moon,
hanging her clothes in a cloudless and colourless night,
you undress my mind of sadistic thoughts
by reaping the passion from my lips with your own.
Your scent is what the feathered creatures use to perfume themselves with.
And not once they have visited me,
for I am the only man
that used to bottle you in love letters
of impossible blue.
Your fingers are painting my worlds
in delicate hues of monochrome love,
but it's involuntary, I think,
since I'm not the one to recieve you in his arms.
I recite my poems under your balcony
but I feel I'm no match for this last romeo
as you don't even bother to talk to me anymore.
Crash the world above my head
and bring me peace already.
It's not healthy at all, this love.
I'm not mad at you love,
I'm only mad at everyone else,
and at me of course.