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my first love was the moon. he had stardust in his locks and he gifted me moonstones and light in our reunions.
we fed honey off our skin and played with mirror shards until daylight shone to welcome him back to the latter side of the vast world.
he spoke galaxies with his sweet melody song, weaves my blond strands until i lay on his laps and lose myself amidst the illuminating stars under his presence. he reminded me of how mama strings beads into my braids while discussing tales of love under acacia trees, greasing my hair with tree sap and speaking juicy tales of fruitless heroines and brave heroes.
the moon boy had imagination wide as the creation spoke tales of heavens and above the silk lining of veils. his touch felt like cotton clouds and his lips tasted like cranberries and worship; an addicting sensation. he was like a fruit to savor as soon as plucked from the branches, or one could see him putrefy in their fingertips. a delicate soul, he was.
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