Were they beads of grief, or your tears that never dried up?
Spilt across the sky, strangely beautiful.
The moon looked grim as if it had a broken heart,
I saw the dark side, it was brighter than I was from inside.
My eyes lit up, with a million colours, as I gazed up,
Vividly bright, yet a monochrome in my heart, blue.
Lying on my back, I was engulfed with a sense of inferiority,
Insignificant I was in this melancholic beauty.