I keep falling in love with something very unlovable
romance crossed with distance
Can’t think about the moon as a foreign concept, cause she’s so blessedly close to the sun,
Who’s familiar as anger, as the tang of skin and salt on your lips,
But the moon— saccharine, soothing,
Glass of water that is swallowed, swallowed,
Lover with blue clothes and smoke in the coils of her hair,
Like following the tides till they wash you free of the surf.
And sex with her carries the scent of sadness, crooked and cold like her smile,
Soothingly silver, poetically perfect,
Lonely goddess with flat stone eyes, ‘adaptable’ carved into her craters,
In case she dares to forget that being loved is a lot like feeling the distance,
Between everything that goes unsaid and the idea of perfection,
Which, like the moon, is often very far away.
About the Creator
Amelia
19-year-old writer who hopes to write stories for a living someday-- failing that, I'd like to become a mermaid.
Instagram: @nighterwriter24
Violence Begets
"Any last words, cowboy?" "None you'd understand, sodbuster." "Funny. That's Marshall Sodbuster to you. But I meant some last nugget that would help us in the adjudication of the myriad offenses counted against you and your gang. I wasn't asking for penitence."
By Adam Diehl5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Wow, this one drifts in that sweet ache of longing! Falling for the untouchable is the only way we learn how to fly... or sink. ✨
Very well penned. Nice metaphors and a refreshingly different take on the moon.
19 years old! Wow! What a deeply gorgeous connection between the perils of love and our shared moon. Beautiful. Greetings from Sweden where the moon outshines the sun.