The moon understood the language of silence, and they thought it was why she was drawn to it. Little did they know she was mostly comforted by the fact that just like her, the moon knew how it feels to be surrounded by darkness.
So to the moon her letters went and under it her wounds glowed; all are fiercely burning away into oblivion that in the light of day, all she is is a scarred soldier.
Scarred.
But still here.
Indeed, a soldier.
YOU ARE READING
moonlit wounds and words (you are celestial #1)
Poetrywhen the blazing sun sets and i'm alone with my mind, when the stars start to shine and the wounds ache with rhymes, a pen in one hand the other clutching my heart, this is how the tears evolve, the way i bleed, and the pain dissolves a collection o...
