Pieces of Moonbeams

CLXXI: tiny bits

maybe we're meant to be apart. maybe we're like that grains of sugar molecules scattering in space, or more like two ending points at the corners of a rainbow. maybe like that of those cliche verses of sun & moon never meeting in closeness & fated to be apart from each other. or that butterflies' wingspan hinged whole--and its distant wings were obliged to be at the other side for it to fly to the light.

the more i try to reach the proximity between us, the more distant your world rotates away from mine. the more i want to give in my love, the more i'm reluctant to express & share it with you in ways i only know...

one mere fragment of myself utterly muses your entire being. my being muses all over your parts wholly—i can't contain my longing inside me anymore. my pieces of love always delve beneath your receptacle. my intimacy looks & finds for you to be revived again from death. or even from a single glance. or even from subtle thoughts of your name.

i want to store it on your repository--i love your wholeness to supplement pieces & pieces of my being. i want to make warmth a symbol of my care... i want to keep you inside me, being the burning core that drives me into fervor. into the heat blazing—then fiercely fuelling my heart to bleed out of love.

i don't mind being shattered in pieces all over again. you are my wholeness. my fragments scattered around in my room and the mess my thoughts dispersed at different places—whilst you were away—are everlasting. they couldn't go away on their own. perhaps, they had built a home inside me waiting for you to enter and peek what is left inside.

i don't mind bursting over and over. i don't mind exploding into supernovas then receding back into a dead star devoid of twinkles--glistening faintly picturing a vague landscape.

i don't mind being your dying light observing your footsteps from a distance. it doesn't matter if you aren't in my close proximity so long as you look up above me mapping destinations for you. please tell me where will you go.

i don't mind being your weak knees walking through plights of your life. i don't mind being your feet for you to tread pavements alongside your prejudices & views & moral judgements you weigh upon another for society to accept you for who you are & who you are not.

but it's null on my part—i was empty to begin with & lost winding across routes
devoid of your presence. i always mull my grief & yearning at the depths of my orbs--i wind up for my pieces to escape this melancholy. maybe one day, i'll crawl my way layer to layer, stages to stages, setting longitudinal ladders (you are my lune) for me to be close to you, dissolving time cascading as a teardrop falls to my cheeks, not caring about your ambivalent desires of the strings you push & pull on me, not minding remnants you'd left, astonished by the zephyr of light singing outside...

maybe i will sing too for you whilst the letters sing. we will become harmony. i'll let you listen to it during your free time... or anytime you would like.

but still, even if you tuck your love away at varying distances, warp sceneries for me to not indulge on it again, burst into special calendar dates & fade into a dimming memory of things—

still, i can't fully realize that i couldn't dwindle myself into tiny bits for you, since your being totally envisage a state wherein one's self is entirely complete without needing a set of palms to trace its constellation, without needing another piece to mend mosaics worn out to be repainted again, without asking God another hand to paint your own canvas & make a reality out of it. perhaps, i would always dream of being painted. (especially by your plain paintbrush, with easels propping delicate strokes of sensations, with hues you exude while i am not in sight, with rays of the sunlight resting in the landscape you decorated.)

still, i don't want to draw strings & pull your fate towards me. still, i don't want to love an art without knowing the artist. still, i don't want to trace the universe's footprints if it wasn't you walking in the first place...

still, i need your pieces to love me whole.

Sept 18, 2023
von frederick