My wings erupt under moonlight fire
I fly so hard to meet you, each night
And I am never fast enough.
There are fables about you
And poems that are too long,
But I love you like something new.
I know each galactic wound,
I have counted each breath
And you are always a day away.
Inconsequential stratospheres choke my eyes,
But I only look to you
Until I finally die in your arms
And you tell me,
La lune est faite pour aimer et je t'aime
Petit papillon de nuit.
