The Sun; Her Stars and Flowers

I love you as one loves a star
Besotted with its light
The light of a dead thing.

I love you as the stars love the dark.
Bitterly alive in its inky blanket,
When otherwise truly dead.

Is it strange? I feel as though I have known you my entire life despite having only met you so recently.

 

In love is a truly tragic manner to have been abandoned in

 

Come my sweet angel
My angel of darkness
Pour heavenly symphonies into puddles of moonlight
With your song of justice and lies
And tell me
Where did I come from?

I loved you as the flowers love the sun,
Desiring ever more closeness,
Blooming in your wake,
And breaths apart from death in your absence.

It became increasingly apparent to me that if I couldn't see you in my dreams then you'd still spend the night with me, hosting my nightmares.