There, upon his chest, must be the moon embedded,
For how else could one retain so much beauty?
How else could one possibly shine brighter than the stars that scatter the sky?
He is in no state of consciousness and yet he is still dusk's centerpiece.
I cannot fathom what a cloudy night would resemble
Or even the sunrise for that matter.
All I can envision is a perpetual darkness with his light to fend off the shadows.
I could do with never again beholding the sunlight if that were to mean my moon never disappears.
I could make do with not ever a single view of daybreak,
For all the color and allure can be found within his cerulean eyes.