this is for you.
i'm speaking as if i'm actually addressing you,
as if these words are going to reach you, when
i'm too much of a coward
to even hit send on a text that says "i miss you"
let alone look into those beautiful eyes and tell you
you are the moon
that which i look to from my
humble place on earthly ground,
and cannot fathom reaching.
to me, the stars glisten
against your rose-colored fingertips,
and for a moment i forget
that stars are hot balls of gas
slowly dying out
and believe that they are accessories
to give you an ethereal glow.
you are everything, everywhere, and i am overwhelmed
by your omnipotence,
for i am so
how ironic it is; i used to scorn people that let love make them stupid, and now i am one of them,
enslaved to yours.
you have my heart now, darling,
and all i ask is for you to handle it with care,
cup it gently in those hands which contain galaxies.
but, again, i am a coward, and i will not say any of these things to you, so i
will just hope
that you understand what i try to convey
through inane hand gestures
and vague text messages, for i am
and could never find a way to tell you
you are the moon.