It's half past one the blue moon says,
his light lands on the unmade beds,
and flows into the very soul,
you crave to meet and to control.

And now that all the guests are gone,
the people that you rest upon,
can look beyond the plain disguise,
and see the pain that grips your eyes.

The street lamp beckons us to come,
shining like the midday sun,
so let me dry your loving tears,
and let the end draw ever near.

We'll walk along the avenues,
staring at our broken shoes,
and thinking of distant past,
and pray the night will always last.

The puddles on the New York streets,
reflect the pain beneath the feet,
of all the flies that buzz around,
for nothing but a sleep unsound.

But you and I cant change a thing,
With open hearts without a king,
theres nothing that i want to do,
but watch the end for me and you.

Your black dress drags along the ground,
and to its threads your eyes are bound,
it tears along its folded seams,
and opens up a world of dreams.

And as the puddle's sides expand,
the world will turn inside the hand,
of time and love and misery,
and come to end for you and me.
I liked this one, keep up the good work!

Cheers n' Beers
I enjoyed this peice. THe solemn imagery you portayed was at once gripping and saddening, which im assuming you were going for considering the forlorn nature of this peice.

I thought the timing of adding a relationship to the picture was perfect, well done in that regard.

Good work overall. If you dont mind, c4c? thanks much.
Too lazy to come up with a clever or relevant sig.
Usually, an AABB rhyme scheme is something to be avoided, but you made it work beautifully here.

The only thing that catches me as off is the fourth stanza; I don't know if "broken" is the right adjective here. Torn, soiled, fraying..... the options are endless.... "broken" doesn't sound right to me though.

C4C? Neither in my sig have been critted yet.
Thanks, all who commented.

Herby; now that i reread the stanza, i know exactly what you mean, thanks.