She blamed it on the moon cycle: Its feverish beam uniting melancholy with high voltage twitching, a confusing combination.
She wanted to howl at the moon: a loud organic moan from the deep pit of her despair, bare chested atop a mountain peak but all while hiding under a heavy blanket eating comfort food.
Staring severely into the sky, beyond the stars and past her better judgment, she blamed it on the moon cycle.
FlyInMyWine 