in which our eyes cry stars and our hearts fly to the moon
we are children of the moon.
it's only when the sun slips behind that ebony cloak that mr sky likes to shield itself with when it's feeling insecure ( like us with our silver tears and our constricting lungs ) that was can really be alive. for there is something in the black inky paint that we cry under every night that is soothing to our wrought iron hearts and brains.
the first time you kissed me was the first time the moon ever cried.
my mama used to tell me that the skies and stars had feelings too ( yes they are angry and sad and oh so joyous, darling. they are the thrumming essence of life itself and it's beautiful. ) but i never believed her 'cause where's the proof? i grew up with a mind of steel, yet that night stars descended like fairydust and coated us with dainty ivory petals and everything i had ever thought faded into the air along with my sadness.
i tilted the face up to the moon and sent a poem to it, unfurling all the love i had treasured deep in that little void between my heart and my lungs in one blossom of blissful words, and i took those words and tossed them at the sky and cried with the moon, oh i cried with the moon and you did too. we kissed again and again as the heavens shifted and the sky watched over us and wept aurelian tears.
we are children of the moon.
for those who love the night and all that it brings.
yo this sucks, 22nd march 2019.
