MJC (1/27/92 / Edina, MN)

Blue Moon

Of course, of course it's you that made the call
Because it's only you that thinks of me in this pitch dark.
Only you, only you desire, or are unaware, of this passivity.
Only you can so quickly break my bars and morals.
But it has been so long - so many nights - since the last…
Is it wrong to blame you on the blue moon?

But it's not only that you call to me in light of the moon,
And when you want something, someone, it's not always that you call.
And when this is the case, I'm certainly not first, certainly not last,
But, certainly, when I hear your voice or name, my heart turns dark.
It only turns so because of my bruised morals;
It doesn't feel too wrong to turn to passivity.

But, oh the changes you've made in me; my first option turning to passivity
I ask how this could've happened to my Self to the sliver of moon,
And all along I know it's because I've turned my back on my own rules, on my own morals.
These rules, I find, are not so foolish when I plummet as I wait, waiting for your next call
I should've known better of the worst that was to come, my depression getting dark
This certainly wasn't the first time, nor will it be the last.

I've tried to push you into my past, wanting to make you less than last
Trying to embrace this metamorphosis, this passivity;
But this place let me tell you, it gets cold and dark
For ages, it is black on black, no shine comes from the new moon.
It's only garishly light when my name escapes your breath, one breath, your whispering call,
You summon me to come out and play after dusk, telling me to leave behind my morals.

I tell you they need to come with, I'm nursing these flimsy morals, my few morals
But you know yourself, it's half a lie; they always came last.
You pull my guise from my center, from my head and toes, dragging me with no force, you call
It's when I realize that it's not the possession of but the lack of passivity
Lacking in the way it always seems to scurry at the sight of the moon.
But this place let me tell you, it's better with gasps of light then centuries of dark.

But in this horror, these monsters call out louder than the last
They know no morals, they perceive no passivity;
These monsters know centuries of dark, and I have seen; is it wrong to blame you on the blue moon?

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Langston Hughes

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