the Sun, the Moon and Other words said

the Sun, the Moon and Other words said

I think to myself, 
the smile on my face evident,
gay as the sunflowers glow before the harvest. 
She makes me that way. 
She like midnight rains she pours, 
her soul, 
in all the words she spoke.
She's my drug, 
the last song on my iPod,
that I could never get myself to have enough of. 
iPod because,
she takes me back to the days when happy meant genuinely happy, 
and not just happy.


I'd imagined, 
she smiled a lot. 
Her lips moist, 
thick and red, 
the place I'd hoped she could taste my dreams, 
some more, 
a resting place to my thoughts. 
She too likes the rains. 
Likes to watch the rain drops slowly hit the ground, 
and imagine the both of us in each others wanting arms. 
So close enough her scent is now of us. 
So close enough, 
that our bodies make music like we'd only be allowed these small moments, 
to compose the symphonies of us making love.


To be more than just familiar strangers. 
To be more than just the sun and the moon, 
together but still very much apart. 
If her voice had taste, 
I'm sure it would be mint and honey. 
A recipe the sun and the mood made in secret to make her seem more earthly. 
Like her smile wasn't a dead give away, 
like her wings were never seen. 
I'd never know, 
her voice is what welcomed my thoughts, 
like the cold ocean breeze at dawn touches the shoreline warmth.


The sun and the moon, 
our favoured witness to all the words we spoke, 
in silence,
we adored these small moments of us. 
We'd found comfort in the words we'd shared at night.
We'd shown like stars, 
bright, 
a darkness, 
a magnet, 
do I miss her? I ask myself,
the unknowing man, 
that thinks too much about a person, 
that he's never actually met.



23/02/19✅

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Good reads