not the song you wrote

there's a cliff under the moonlight
she waits there for you tonight

you think she's going to jump maybe
into a black n white tv scape

she fed the children and the man
made the meal kept real quiet

now she's on granite boulder the moonlight on her shoulders
dusts them white like angel wings embracing flight.

in the sky above jetliners move in sparks across
the darkness, remind her of fireflies in the park,

the glow inside the glass jar you gave her,
told her she was made for more than what became her.

she smashed it on the table, let the lightning be
climbing scrapes flesh from her knee

the rock is hard but nothing real comes free.
shes gained the top and from up here it's one long drop

but instead she seeks your name inside a cup
from radient, filled up with moon and beer

so she could stave off any tears not meant
for you and her and everything that couldn't be.