When I got home from school my mother would ask me how my day was.
I would say fine
because what else could I say other than
I would like to know myself. I experienced the day as if in a vacuum far away and never actually present.
I might as well have been a dead shell at the age of seven
YOU ARE READING
THE STARS LOVE THE MOON
Poetrythey keep watching the strangest of all loves to work out. They exist for each other, rarely next to each other. they would lose their light without any of them gone.
