Collapsing under its own gravity,
The sun dies a little every day.
Every morning is a reminder,
Of its resilience,
Every night a tale of its loss.
A star shines brightest,
The more closer to death it gets,
Every constellation is a reminder,
that art wears melancholy the best.
Leaning in for a kiss,
The moon creates ripples in the sea's heart
Always reaching out, but never touching,
Every full moon is a reminder,
That it's possible to find contentment
While still longing.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 8:53 AM UTC
Collapsing under its own gravity,
The sun dies a little every day.
Every morning is a reminder,
Of its resilience,
Every night a tale of its loss.
A star shines brightest,
The more closer to death it gets,
Every constellation is a reminder,
that art wears melancholy the best.
Leaning in for a kiss,
The moon creates ripples in the sea's heart
Always reaching out, but never touching,
Every full moon is a reminder,
That it's possible to find contentment
While still longing.
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