angelic shadows are
so
much brighter
in the night.
i study
the geography of constellations
on my skin,
in a room full of
moonlight.
my hands catch
in rays of
barely tangible
moonshine and there’s something
familiar in the cold light.
everything is sacred
in the hours of silence;
mirrors shatter
and clothes are uncomfortable.
my eyes burn
and my flesh melts away,
and there’s something
about the scrutiny of the moon’s
gaze
that makes me think i could be enough.
the smell of
moonlight
blinds me
more and more,
and my vision blurs completely.
music tastes like my
childhood,
and i think maybe
that’s not finished yet.
i’m still young
enough to dream
and love with my whole heart,
young enough to ignore the
messages time sends me
and young enough to
let the notifications pile up.
young enough to
be desperate to know myself,
and young enough to
learn a little bit more
everyday.
young enough to
find my truth
in the patterns of the
stars and
young enough to
learn to love myself a
bit more everyday.
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