Suddenly I realize that I've always been his,
But he's never been mine.
I can feel cold flesh wrapping around my heart.
They're hands.
They're hands that work hard, day and night, to mend my heart and erase any trace of him.
But it won't ever work.
Because it is a heart that he once stole, so unknowingly.
The stunning glint of moon lit orbs tainting me in his charm and his humor.
The moon is a simple, yet beautiful object that harbors many meanings.
Meanings like time, balance, perceptions, illumination...
The moon is a symbolic soul mate.
My heart is like stained glass.
Fragile, yet so bold.
Beautiful, yet so thin.
Let me tell you one last thing before you break it.
Learning to live without you would be like learning to breath underwater.
I'd just keep drowning and end up rock bottom.
Where it is always dark.
My heart shatters quickly,
And quietly,
Like the fragile stained glass.
And that is what my heart has always been.
What it will always be.
The pieces splinter inside of my chest.
My heart throbbing from every unreturned feeling.
My fingers turn white from drastically grasping my heart, hoping that if I apply enough pressure to my undying love for him, my heart won't slip away like the memories of the day as they slip away in the moon's light.
I don't regret feeling.
The moon can be associated with the dark, simply because it appears at night.
But the moon also provided light.
This can be translated to us.
Even in the darkest hour of night, the moon will shine for the helpless souls wandering around looking for love.
So I wonder.
Was he ever my moon?
Or has he just been my night?
