the light

driving in the pale moonlight

i want to write a real love story. one of shy looks and smooth fingertips, tracing dusted cheekbones. one of kids driving in the pale moonlight, eyes focused on each other, rather than the miles of faded abyss in front of them. i want to write a love story that feels like little infinities, like if breathing was simply a pastime, their reason for living would be to love. i want to write a love story from start to finish; from naive first touch, to brutal last kiss; from my fingers, to your heart. i want to write a love story... a love story that reaches atop galaxies and pours liquid cosmos out its bleeding soul.