Owls and the moon

Oh moon.
How much I want to kiss
and bite your shining face.
Let dirty blood
stain your proud, immaculate glow.
Oh moon.
Stop pulling
at the substance of my innermost being.
I give up.
I cannot at once
rise from the ground
to meet you up in the sky
from where you will never come down.
I now understand.
Moons are not won over
by ugly ducklings who sing our despicable songs;
who bask in our brief daylight splendour.
Ducks who will leave everything behind,
travel thousands of miles just to be with the sun.
Instead, moons are won over by handsome owls
not mindful of time.
Always there, cuddled by your glow
waiting with you as daylight approaches.