after this day he starts to disappear again
where minute by minute
day by day
he goes
back into his spot in the sky
where he lets me bask in his warmth

but he's greedy
not letting me fully encapsulate
the joy and delight he provides
by taking away a minute of his light
each day

hopefully he doesn't hide behind the clouds
on june 23
otherwise this poem is a waste
if one were to even call this a poem

i still remember
your sleepy steel eyes
staring back at me
bed hair and soft sheets
your tender fingertips
always lost
in my crimson hair
that just couldn't stop itself
from gently spilling
onto your face
in those moments i knew
you would always give me
a thousand new reasons
to unravel for you
before the amber sun
filled the sky
with her nectarine kisses.

nighttime phantoms of birds swoop low through the breeze,
greeting bats with sweet melodies and mingling in the trees.
not only do their songs tingle the ears of few,
but they are gone with the moon and the mid-morning dew.

Daylights were so much
than expensive goldbars
with your arms securing my chest
in the twenty-fifth of May
covered with comfy bedsheets
and you as my everyday scenery,
my healthy breakfast,
my vitamin A.

But nightfalls were so much
unaware than missed shooting stars
in clouded firmament
with your eyes refused to stay
growing cherry blossoms
as I hope that your feet
became regretful
for stepping to the nothingness
to the process of forgeting
until to the complete unknown

— marion.

I used to
chase the sun.
I feared the sunset
and the darkness
that would prevail.
I didn't think the horizon
could be more beautiful
until I found my moon
that is you.