i drowned myself in sorrow just to talk to you
but you were quiet.

us.

"write something about me," you said.

"i can't. i can only write when I'm sad," i explained.

"that's sad," you said,
"you won't be able to write for the rest of your life now that I'm here."

oh, only if you knew i wrote a lot about you, i could make a book.

I've been trying to erase you from my mind,
But I'm scared now that I almost accomplish my goal.

Maybe you were right
That I was naive for thinking that
I could go days, weeks, months, years
Without your heavenly fingers
Dancing on the side of me I can't see.

"You are my moon
Which keeps me company
When I am alone
With my thoughts at night."

I remember your eyes lighted up when you said that.
I remember the feeling I felt the night you said that.

And I also remember
The days you turned into a cocoon.
The nights where I only focused
My lights for you; to keep you warm.
So you wouldn't feel no harm.

Then you came out of the shell that kept you hostage.
Right away, as you were free, you asked about your age.
I whispered that you weren't as old as you thought you were.
You sighed in blue, changed your color, and stopped your prayer.

But I am still the moon
Floating with my tune.
So don't reach me with your balloon,
Just stay there in your dune.

the thing about scars is that they will heal
if you stop scratching them.