the night
conquers
my sight.

the moon
shines bright.

the stars
haunt me
over and over
again.

I am an owl,
A nyctophile.

There are so many beautiful things
But I chose you, my masterpiece.

Because why would I look for another star,
When you're already my moon.

Why would I find another universe,
If you're already my galaxy.

Why would I find another constellation,
If your name is the most eye-catching one.

Why would I find the biggest castle,
If you're in the paradise waiting for me.

Why would I leave,
If I'm home already.

Why would I write for someone as my subject,
When you're the heart of my poetry.

She's my Friday,
I am her Monday.

I never liked the sun
I hated being in the spotlight.  

I always liked the moon
I loved being in the dark.

but, ever since you came
into my life.
I always want to get seen by you.
to be noticed by you.

I don't think I can be
where you can't see me.

I never dreamed
of becoming a writer,
but I write.

I can't even say that
I am good at writing,
but still, I write.

I want to write
my heart out.
I want to exclaim my
thoughts, hoping that
someone out there
will understand me.

I fell for you
faster than
9.8 m/s^-2.

So I told you
I love you
faster than
3.0 x 10^8 m/s^-1.

And I mean it.
Always.

I am a direct metaphor.
I am simple compared to simile.
Buzzing noisily with onomatopoeia.
I am much harder than the irony.
Awfully repetitive like alliteration.
More hyper than the hyperbole.
Non-living but I live by personification.
I am litotes, full of negativity.
I am the antithesis of the antithesis.
Partly whole like synecdoche.
I am confusing and messy like paradox.
I use "handsome" as my name. Metonymy.

If you can't understand the pun,
it's because I am
the "*****" in the oxymoron.