It’s never why
it’s only when
the extra letter
fits the pain

a man
a tree
a long-haired girl

remind you of the moon

you once believed
but now you don’t

all courage in an empty cup

you drink to him

gall is made
from wine
gone bitter
in a broken heart

you turn away in shame

Narcissus at the touching pool

enthralled by what he sees–

beauty is the beast