Tomorrow is the last night
till our love becomes an ellipses.
Me, leaving. You, going — the
distance between us
stretching across state lines
that for me hold oceans between them.
Please. I press my lips against your skin
like a plea. Your fingers between mine are
prayers that I’ve been trying to find the
words for since the first time I woke up
from a dream about angels to see you
looking at me with the sky
in your eyes.
The worst part about being human is having
a heart so susceptible to metaphors.
Your lips are tulips in the vase of my throat.
You photosynthesize and my blood is made of chlorophyll.
I can’t differentiate between your pulse and mine
and I want to tell you that
All my poems sound like sighs since I’ve met you,
but you’re painting my neck the color of your breath
and I’m so distracted, thinking of you and your lashes
that furl and unfurl just for me, tonight.
You are the summer of the seven-year locusts.
You are so much that it’s breaking my heart.
I read you the first page of a novel by Nathacha Appanah
but I’m terrible at words so you kiss them away.
The night yawns and wraps its arms
around us both. You hold me closer and I want to cry.
I write what I have never told you slowly on your skin.
Do you know how it hurts to touch you
knowing that in the morning
I’ll still wake up alone?
Tomorrow is the last night
till our love becomes an ellipses.
I don’t want to think of all those suns that will rise without you.
I Love You, Shinji Moon
p/s; i fount out that my heart was too big for my body, so i let it go.. i wish..
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aum
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