I was wrong.
Your eyes are not blue moons,
Not because
they are not blue,
Nor is it because
they are not moons.
But it is because I have never seen two moons,
And neither of both I have not seen are blue.
But I have seen the moon.
It is gorgeous.
You are gorgeous.
The moon’s surface is white, pure white,
Your surface is very much similar.
The moon’s face is surrounded with pitch black,
Your face is too, although there is some dyed red.
The moon’s surface has craters,
From when the universe wasn’t so kind.
I know you have those too,
But they are lines, not seas. Red and pink, not gray.
The moon can’t cry, nor can it show affection.
For that reason, amidst infinite others, you are perfect.
The moon is not,
But it can remind me of you.
And I am grateful for that.
The moon and you.
~
She believes that I loved her for her pretty face, that my flattery was for her body.
No.
She holds more than most people on this planet could comprehend.
She is more than any eye can see alone.
There's a reason her smile is so beautiful, she's seen the worst side of life.
I want to listen to her. Even when she chooses not to speak to me.