That wolf that cries to the moon because it was never touch by love.
It continuously cries to the moon, not receiving its loud screams of love back.
Every month it will climb up to the highest mountain
Just to see this moon.
It will cry and weep, asking for love.
It never got it.
But the moon always came back for why… we don’t know.

It's odd, isn't it? How much you miss the feeling. You miss the rumble and the noises. The applause of your insides. Such a pain others avoid- yet here you am craving it once more.
Don't worry- It'll come.
Today was your last.
Tomorrow you're done.

I hate the type of goodbyes
where nothing is said
just things are forgotten

like the smell of my perfume dabbed slightly on my collarbone
applied softly, wishing you would notice

or how you ran your fingers down my neck
giving me goosebumps every time I inhaled the sweet aroma of rain lingering outside

and now
the beautiful words that flowed dangerously fast out of our mouths
are no longer spoken

you gracefully faded from my life

like how foggy breath fades in the winter