Satellite

Satellite,
she feels so close.
Everything that was so
unclear
is sharp and bright
through the night,
and she hands you
sunglasses with
an easy smile
as she starts to fade
in the
morning
light.

Satellite,
she feels like the
lover’s moon
when she’s around.
Every night,
just as your eyes
get used to her light,
she fades
and goes
away.

And the fantasies
she’s wrapped you in
of the stars
she dances, argues,
and loves with
during the day
leave you feeling
like the most ordinary
part of her life.

Sometimes
you would wonder
if she was
the hunter’s moon
with a carnivorous mind
and the lure
of a gentle touch.

But in the end,
she was a satellite.
She might touch your life,
but you’d never reach her.

-GD Butler

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