Sometimes she would just sit there inside herself, peeling away at crisp edges in search for the root. Most nights were spent watching the girl on the moon. She was her own woman, her own planet and inside she harvested the creation of a new world and the detonation of my own. Most nights I’d hope it’d come swiftly and painless, but I engulfed the only woman she had ever known through my mass awakening and because of this I knew her uprising would not be so kind.
Still, she was a beautiful little horror if had ever have known one. She’d creep softly inside my dreams and pinch away at my most fond memories hushing sweet lullabies to my waters to calm the sea inside. When time elapsed I would not know of the moments I had lost but her melodies left trails of secrets and sorrows stolen.
The woman who had once existed between times had been consumed and reincarnated by greater forces into a separate realm. Now, only floated the soulless carcass of a vast grey anatomy. No tides rose upon her sea and stars failed to gleam as her love did, for the lost girl on the moon.
If I could outstretch my regret to her craters then maybe I could dissect the hymns spoken through her tears of dust, but most nights they flew for eons and often she’d be swept away by her salted ocean into the abyss of gravity.
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