[Full moon + clouds + exhaustion] X Camui Gackt.
Against my better judgment, I'm actually going to type this thing up and post it here for you guys to read. Considering that the thing didn't really start to "come together" until I switched my playlist to an all-Gackt format, perhaps I should send it to him.
Seriously, I would like a critique from any of the English majors out there, as poetry isn't one of the core requirements in journalism school. I'm willing to bet that this sucks, and I'm used to harsh criticism in the form of uncontrollable laughter, so don't worry about hurting my feelings. I know I show little aptitude for poetry.
One note about the poetry I do attempt, though- unlike my articles, my poetry tends to be more about emotions and the feeling of "being there" than descriptions of actual events and/or experiences. I don't necessarily concentrate my efforts on the words in the sense of, "is this making a coherent, lucid journey from literary point A to literary point B?" It's more, "what do these words represent to me, and do they evoke the same feelings on the page that I'm feeling inside. Yes, I know, it's all gushy, but even us cynical journalists have to have an outlet.
Were clouds like this when we were young
And will they look this way again?
Do you remember things you said
And the way you looked at me?
As the moon gazed on the earth
While time stood still, to our amusement
You said we would be friends forever
Before we walked our separate roads
To become the things we are
And learn how we would spend our days
The books I have are blank and empty
Pages waiting to be filled
Waiting to record a life
I've only now begun to live
You believed in me then
Do you still do so now
When so much has changed between us?
Years are like an ocean
As days, like waves, drift us apart
Will memory remain our servant
And could things be the same again?