Do you think we could lay beneath the stars in a sort of wondrous terror?
Terror at the thought of such exposure. The stars that we are made of could see us,
Pale in the moonlight.
Moonlight suits us.
Your dark eyes would become caverns, your dark hair would tangle like so many brambles.
And I would be there. Reflected in your eyes. You always were the sun, and I the moon. A sacrifice and the result. An unconditional love.