God I miss him,
I miss the days of old.
I can taste it.
It tasted like a windy summer night.
Where the waxing gibbous moon was radiating;
Lighting up the cloudless night and then reflecting on the surface of my heart.
Where every small movement of he makes
– with his lips, hands and fingers caused ripples.
They were exaggerated in the best way possible.
It tasted like a cold autumn night;
Like the golden, sweet and sticky honey;
drizzled over warm waffles and a hot cup of rose tea.
Where the waxing gibbous moon was glowing;
Glowing through my curtains then onto my mirror,
casting a reflection on my bed.
Where he lies all day,
Waiting for me to return from reality –
to where I truly belong.
Where we waltzed with stars and I slide down the Milky Way
right into his arms.
I am a nefelibata.
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 10:04 AM UTC
God I miss him,
I miss the days of old.
I can taste it.
It tasted like a windy summer night.
Where the waxing gibbous moon was radiating;
Lighting up the cloudless night and then reflecting on the surface of my heart.
Where every small movement of he makes
– with his lips, hands and fingers caused ripples.
They were exaggerated in the best way possible.
It tasted like a cold autumn night;
Like the golden, sweet and sticky honey;
drizzled over warm waffles and a hot cup of rose tea.
Where the waxing gibbous moon was glowing;
Glowing through my curtains then onto my mirror,
casting a reflection on my bed.
Where he lies all day,
Waiting for me to return from reality –
to where I truly belong.
Where we waltzed with stars and I slide down the Milky Way
right into his arms.
I am a nefelibata.
This is a true recount of my feelings for someone. I have an obsession with a moon, stars and whatever that is in the universe/ outer space. I often feel inspired by when I see the moon. From my room, I have a clear view of the moonlit sky and it feels very comforting.
Honor