The Lone Wolf Vent. . .

Like a lone wolf howling at the moon in need
in want. . .
for something it hasnt the power to ease
though  you cry
and whine. . .
and whimper
The moon can never rub salve upon gaping wounds
nor can it douse the flames that incinerate from the core
It can never hear  
nor will it understand
Comprehend my child
In its luminous cold beauty
it is merely a beacon of light
to illuminate your rejection in the dead of the night
A cold glare of luke warm luminescence  
that even the chill of the night seems to fear not
Let it be witness to your humiliation . . .
and ebbing deterioration . . .
and know now
what a one sided love affair this be.