Beneath the stars, her skin glowed.
She looked up above curiously, wonderfully indulging the moonlight above like silk on her face. She closed her eyes, eyelashes kissing the skin of her cheeks when she smiled peacefully. I imagine my hands on them, stroking her cheeks comfortingly with my fingers to let her know that whatever she was thinking about, it should be as amazing as she was or it should go away like smoke just like what I feel everytime I see her face.
Under the moon, she was reaching. Reaching for the dreams she could never hold, not knowing that I'm willing to give her so much more than what she wanted if she let me. But who am I to do that? If she reached for the sky as hopeless at I seemed to be when I didn't call her name, when all I had wanted is to let her know that I was there for her; then she is my moon. I could only desperately look at her until she searches for me only to see that I'm too far from her, and she is too beautiful, too breathtakingly much for me. I couldn't give more than what the sky could offer, and she deserved more than what her eyes could see. All she had was me, but it didn't matter.
I was only a star, and I could only shine so bright for her to see.
