Sitting here, my rough elbows upon the windowsill, glancing towards the bright moon, I see her eyes in the sphere, knowing that she sees mine staring back. Our lunar reflections shine on our hearts. Though our evening provider of light phases in and out of entirety, our emotion does not, we remain strong, even when apart, even when the microscopic bastards of non-health attempt to separate us, I never give up the hope that every next day may be our reuniting. For no matter how slivered the earthly moon becomes, it never fully looses its rays to slice through the midnight black, and I follow suit, defining solidarity, knowing no matter how many jokers I draw from the deck, I hold out my own small sliver of hope that my next turn will provide me with the queen of my heart, my darling lover, and that we may rejoice in health and prosperity, for not just our hands, but the hands of tomorrow as well.
I've never once lost complete hope in us,
even when my hand was in anothers.
<3
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