Moon. That's what they said. Moon, I'm sure of it.
A moon and a scar.

Scar.
Murderer.

Broken, lying wounded in the moon, crimson moon. Robed in life, a seepage, flowing out upon you. You are dressed in a hole, a gaping emptiness, vacuum of pain.

Numbness. Passion, an infinite relationship. Broken you like there hanging by a loss of time.

Eyes shut, no.
Eyes closed, adrift in a pool of hope.

Black and white, I see clearer.