The man
who was sitting
alone under the rooftop
with burning cigarette
on the right hand,
feeling beauty,
looking at the night sky,
waiting to see the moonlight,
it was me.

I wish I was a star,
Far in the sky,
I wish I was a moon,
I'm a  Selenophile

by now, the moon knows that my chest is just a burial ground for this thousandfold of sighs — in their hands, all different ways of my undoing, and i am a breath away from one. you see, some nights are for the softest, gentlest moments of lunacy. some nights, for waging wars and succumbing into these sighs, barely held by the petals tightening around my throat. by now, the moon knows that i had once been a battlefield and it's a pity — growing poems on such an unholy ground, only to fall apart like aster leaves and ancient city walls.

darling, it's getting dark, and this is starting to look less like poetry — and more like spoils of war from inside my head.

Just as the moon getting closer agitates the waves, He got too close and angered the waves of her heart. He hoped for a piece of his soul to calm her tide but it was too much and she wished him gone as the waves spit the moon back out into the sky. While the rising sun found two sets of footprints, the path they were taking was separate from each other.

He finds himself somewhere new, a beach with his beautiful moon being licked by the ocean waves. Then he notices her, dancing at the tide's edge. He comes to realize that the moon led him to her through its final moonbeams for the night. As the Day cracks into a new dawn, It finds two sets of footprints walking along tide's edge on a path to the moon while the sea slowly consumes the trail.

They stare at me, with questioning eyes. They wonder why I always look so tired, but in reality, I've never felt better. Last night I was able to speak with you again, tell you of my troubles and bathe in your light. They will never understand but that doesn't matter, for as long as I have you. I can handle the waking world just to have another chance to enjoy your company in a state of reality I don't belong in.

A beam of light, I can see. Shining brightly across the sea. Then I see Her, in a torn white dress. Slowly climbing with the stars. She tries to hide her damaged face but I encourage her that it's part of her beauty. As a thank you for letting her shine with all her flaws, she tells me of the things she's seen back in a time when her face was smooth and craterless. And I sit with her and listen to her stories. Then comes the time for her to climb down, but she promises to be back, and I promised to be there waiting.