Celestial Inhibitions

I fear the gibbous moon

That descends onto night-crusted branches

And brags, tilts its head, and mocks at

The incomplete ones that dwell below

I fear the gibbous moon

That lingers outside windowpanes, that

Have just begun to be stepped on by

The crimson feet of autumn

Leaving leafy footprints, that spiral around

In curves and curls

I fear the gibbous moon

That settles outside bedrooms and sees

The shape of sobs and cries

Softly vaporizing through the glass –

And imprinting themselves onto

This mist-covered surface

I fear the gibbous moon

That watches me dress my scars

And instead of comforting me, it shows me

The deeply-set craters upon its cheeks

And calls them, his scars

And then, it shifts in the sky so that –

It is positioned before my mirror

And then, we begin to compare

Whose scars are deeper, darker, sadder

Whose scars are circular, inverted, straight

Together pausing on the question –

Which asks

 Whose scars ache more?