The Harvest Moon

I sat outside the night before the Harvest Moon was full…trying to exhale my thoughts with a cigarette through every single pull…my head was heavy with envy because the sky was so clear that night…it felt like all the weight of the stars in the world were contracting inside my mind…and there was the moon…spying on me behind a cloud…she bickered at me… “SILENCE YOUR THOUGHTS—FOR THEY ARE FAR TOO LOUD!”…I took another pull of my cigarette and asked…“What ever do you mean?”…her response was as cliche as my heart sometimes…”Things aren’t always as they seem”…then she proceeded to laugh in my face because she knew what I’ve done….I had become temporarily smitten…by a version of the Sun…I tried to explain myself and how the situation unfolded…how my schemes are being judged and now my identity is being molded….I had to light another cigarette…and I think she did too…cause every blow of smoke from mine resembled the clouds around her…as if it was a drag she just took….

Then I asked…”Why am I always right for the wrong?…does that mean I’m wrong for the right?…I know it’s too much to ask and we only have the night…but I’m really trying to understand…aren’t my good qualities the greatest? Do my mistakes validate who I am? Why are my actions always being debated?…am I not good enough for someone to take a risk?…am I not worth the gamble?…can I be so easily forgotten?…tell me the truth—that’s all I’m willing to handle…

Then with a side smirk on her face…one that I know too well she replied…”I have a secret for you that I must tell…and can no longer hide…every time you meet one…you tend to share our romance…you introduce them to my light and suddenly my glow is enhanced…you tell them how much you love me and soon they begin to understand…that such a beauty as mine will never be matched nor created by man…you write poems about me…the way you write about them…and for a moment they feel special because I’m the moon and they’re just men…it’s like comparing God to the Devil when your thoughts reach that pen in your hand… your presence is more appreciated then you think but with your absence is that they understand”…

I interrupted her and said…“Really it’s not that deep…I pen these words about them so that at night…I could sleep…anyway what’s your point?”…and with hesitation she replied…”Even with my flawed surface…I am the most sought-after in the night sky…but to see beyond imperfection requires a willing set of eyes…as for you being forgotten…not so easily…imagine what it would it be like…to have me brought down from the sky…have me walk around the earth like another human-being…now when they look up at me…it is you they are seeing…engraved in their mentality your presence has left a mark…a million stars can shine up in the sky…but your moon is the one they look for…when it’s dark…”

Good Night.

Cosmic Curls

Turn your scars

Into Stars,

And form a

Constellation:

The girl with a million curls.

-Christina Del Carmen

No Filter

Camilia loved to blend in by blending out all that she was.  “No filter” was not a part of her hashtag dictionary.  She’d erase freckles, blur out scars, and sometimes would change the color of her eyes.  #FilteredQueen, she’d say as she posted another pic.  Until one day she went missing and Camilia was hard to find, for the things that made her unique were all filtered in disguise.

-Christina Del Carmen