It has been six cycles of the moon since we first talked.
And if I count the days we were together, it'd probably be one cycle of the moon's light.
Of both our hectic lives, we managed to be together for short periods of time.
You were always there when I called even when the moon is no longer up.
But now what we have, is no longer luminous like the moonlight.
It has become hazy and dark; as if a storm is coming, we see no light.
Yet, here I am trying to blow away the clouds that covers the sky.
And if I'd lose my breath just to let you see me as I am, I would.
If only you could look up above the sky, and see clearly;
see how the dark areas of the moon give its beauty,
see how mistakes could still make us luminous,
see how I am losing my breath just to see you.
If only...
but its too late.

The moon gives us light but no heat.
The moon hears our secrets but doesn't tell.
The moon gives us comfort but at a distance.
The moon loves us all but it's only dark.

I’m trapped in the constellations
Because I tried to grab the stars
But the moon screamed
I screamed
Echoing across the celestial
So the city of lights awoke

And the extroverts below
Cry out at us
To force us to remain mute
As if they control the solar system
But the moon ignores them
Thus, I ignore them too

The rays liquify me
As I try to connect the dots
But the images I arrange
Are mocking me
Laughing through the sky
Teasing the Milky Way

And the sun scoffs our feud
Too galactic to engage
Only observing
As I bounce between the fiery lines
Surging into boundaries
Too torched to care

But for the introverts beneath
There’s only a catalina void
Where the established figures
Are marginally vitiated
Dim flickers
Lost in the distance

So I’m overshadowed
By this lunar eclipse
Helplessly cornered
Inside the myriad configurations
I scream
Because I tried to grab the stars.

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.