I Listened To Your Song Today.

I've described you in every way that I can.

You are the moon and the stars,

in the horizon that I am.

The river's brilliant blue water,

is how I picture you in my mind.

Sweet tea in the evenings,

bears the same comfort of your voice.

Feathers in my dreamcatcher are beautiful and soft,

yet cannot compare with your touch.

Kindness is what your heart is made of,

and know I need it the most.

I have pictured you in every way that I can.

From the chocolate melting in my hands,

to the melodious song of the sirens at sea,

everything somehow fits my description of you.

Hauntingly beautiful is the phrase that fits you perfect.

For you never leave my dreams,

and you're always there in my wake.

I feel like when I cry behind closed door,

you become the breeze through the window.

Sun kisses on babies are what you feel like,

too good to be true yet somehow always real.

I haven't seen you yet.

We haven't met each other here.

And I don't even know if you exist out of my head.

But when I close my eyes and imagine being with you,

I swear I could hear your laugh in my bones.

Ricocheting off the walls in my head,

and slowly singing me too sleep.

© Moonyloonywitch

31/07/2021

12:16 pm

The yellow letter sits on my table.

Edges worn and writing faded.

A faint scent of sandalwood and lavender,

is all that lingers where your hands once roamed.

I've kept it close to me all these years.

In hopes you'll write one again.

But that's all it has been.

Hopes that seemed hopeless to begin with.

I cannot bring myself to crumple it.

Or tear it into small bits.

Deep down I am scared.

Your words have become a second breath to me.

Almost as if I'll die if I stop thinking about them.

We never said goodbye.

But you did say you were bored of this love.

Maybe it's time I threw it away.

The tiny piece of paper that held me a prisoner all these years.

Time for a fresh new me.

One where I don't give up my heart to random strangers.

With a racing heart and a head full of doubts,

I take up the paper and read it again.

For the last time,

I remember your face.

I remember how much in love I was.

And for a final time,

I trace my fingers over your words.

With love, you say,

but it's been dead for a while now.

And now, I think I'll bury it.

But the doorbell rings and I sigh.

The man seems amused by my tears.

He hands me the box all the same,

and then walk away with a good day.

I open the box and there you are.

Smiling from the past like you're still here.

Another piece of paper fall into my lap.

Your words stare at me again.

Fresh scents of sandalwood and lavender fills me.

With love, you say again.

I almost laugh out but then catch myself.

It's wrong to laugh at the dead.

But I still smile, happy.

I held onto you for so long.

And finally when I began to let you go,

you've just gone on.

Maybe what kept you alive for so long was me.

Afterall how could death drag you down,

when I whispered your name to the passing wind,

and wrote it in sand over and over again.

Maybe that's why certain love are born.

To keep the other alive and breathing.

And with every breath I take now,

I remind myself there's someone for me too.

© Moonyloonywitch

01/09/2021

Ever since I saw your face,

a homeless ache setteled into my soul.

Creating a void inside me day by day,

while I watch you smile from afar.

I know we are worlds apart,

but my heart doesn't accept that.

Fate was a fairytale to me,

something that people used to distract themselves.

But I think it was fate that brought you to me.

Or rather it was fate that I realised you existed in this world.

Love is what everyone talks about,

but I never felt the need to experience it.

So while all around me people fell in love,

I quietly gazed at the stars wondering why I would need someone ever.

And it still is true, I don't need you.

When I saw you my heart didn't skip a beat,

nor did my breath catch.

But strangely though I couldn't tear my eyes off of you.

I thought it was a mere infatuation,

a crush upon your beautiful features.

But turns out after months of seeing you,

all I ever want is to see you even more.

My heart has latched onto you,

so now everything I love reminds me of you.

That seemed suspicious to me,

so I tried looking for more prettier faces.

I found many more of them,

yet in the end my heart only remembers yours.

I am scared that I am falling for you.

I just don't want to.

So when someone asks me if I ever was in love,

I'll confidently say that I haven't.

While my stupid heart silently screams your name.

And I'll pretend that I didn't hear it.

© Moonyloonywitch

07/08/2021

How long do I sit and wait around

I am suffocating in all this slowness

I am tired of acting like I enjoy the day

I can't anymore

I need adventures and uneaseness

I need to be under a tree unpacking a travel bag

searching for that quick bite before I resume

I need to be under the stars and counting the big ones

I can't sit at a window and look at the passing cars

I can't sit around and dance to another melody

I need to be out in the wilderness and battling for breath

I need to know that I am alive and here

And not just another painting on the wall

in the living room that's beige.

Love is sometimes not what we expect.

I don't remember the exact day I fell in love.

But when you get late, I worry.

My brain tells me it's fine,

that you're probably stuck in traffic.

But my heart don't seem to understand.

It doesn't let me breathe.

My heart does not know the reasons or distances.

It only knows your absence.

And when mine doesn't find your heart to beat alongside,

It dies a little bit everytime.

With a tired sigh, you tell me that life has become pointless now and that you've forgotten how it felt to be alive. You tell me you don't know where to find the next chapter of this monotonous life of yours.

I hope you find it in between your favourite book, with pages folded that remind you of how beautiful life sometimes can be.

I hope you find it the way the flowers in your homemade pots bloom late in the afternoon, spreading a faint fragrance that people will soon come to associate you with.

I hope you find it in the sweetness of the tea that you have in the mornings, just before you walk out to meet your best friend.

I hope you find it in the warmth of your blankets at night, when the moon filters in through the open window and falls on the suncatcher beside your table.

I hope you find it in the familiar tunes of your childhood songs that always adds a little bit of yellow to your eyes.

I hope you find it in the swift winds of the early winter mornings, where the steam from your cup fogs up your glasess as you sit across and smile at the little boy who claims he is Peter Pan.

I hope you find your next chapter in all the tiny nooks and corners of the world that hides the most beautiful moments that this life can come up with.

You know where to look. But you've been looking with your heart closed.

I don't really know how to say this, but here goes. All I want in a medical/hospital type of drama show is for one (1) woman to choose herself over her unborn baby, just once.

Out of the maybe hundreds or more pregnant women we see in these shows, who come in after being in an accident or suffering from an illness or some sort of complication or I don't know what, I just want a single solitary woman who, when faced with the choice of risking or maybe even ending her life for the sake of getting the pregnancy to term or terminating the pregnancy to save herself, will choose the second option.

I know. I know how important carrying a child can be, how hard some need to work just to get pregnant, how hopeful and happy it makes them, how important it is and how devastatingly painful and crushing it can be to lose it. But this constant emphasis on self sacrifice for the sake of unborn children, the very obsession with the idea of birth, with a woman's "purpose" to give birth, of the implications and hinting that creating a family can or should only be achieved through pregnancy - it's A Problem.

I just want to see one woman. Just one. One woman who is sad and heartbroken at her diagnosis, but makes it clear she wants to live. She wants to survive, even if her baby won't. That if there is a choice to make, she is the more important one. She should be the one they save. Just one woman, who, when faced with the possibility of never being able to have another child, says "well that's a shame. But I always wanted to adopt anyway so I guess I'll start sooner than I thought". One woman who is okay with never having a baby, because while it was a happy occasion, it's not the only good thing in her life and not the only way for her to define herself. One woman who is more excited at the prospect of being a full-time aunt, because she already has all the children she could ever want, even if they are not "hers". Maybe even one, just one woman, who blatantly and with no regret says "you know what? It's not important enough for me to die for. Thanks but I want to live".

I just want one.

“Don’t say maybe if you want to say no.”

— Paulo Coelho

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A million touches later you're finally here to stay.

Probably with a million more you'll finally fall for me too.

But sadly, we don't have so much time.

Maybe this is our last sunset together.

And when the light of the next moon falls on your pretty face,

I'll close my eyes one last time.

And just like that fade away with nothing but your name on my lips.