the sun taught the moon how to shine for whomever he loved and he started burning for her.
everything (except for the pictures) within this work is in my possession.
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I. there is a tenacious girl with eyes, hot and flaming as fire, fiercer than any warrior and the kind of fervent that any writer aspires to be. the day she spotted me on the rooftop, alone and absentminded, she stepped out, her gleaming eyes anchored on my figure, and asked me, her voice low and steadier than the ground below our feet, what are you doing out in the cold? and I do not reply, for souls as passionate and tender as hers wouldn't understand, that boys like me carry the coldness within themselves —— and to be sitting next to her feels so sinful and forbidden to me, it makes the ice in my veins melt.
II. it is her whom we have in mind, when we think of virtue. it is freedom we have in mind, when we think of her.
III. so many stories warn us about love and the sacrifices that come with it —— and my repeated presence on the same rooftop proves how true these tales must be, for she illuminates the frigidness that I cannot live without —— but then again, she is the sun and I am the moon in need of her light and I can't help but wish; please notice me.
