It was all for his
taking.
And he took it,
with time.
A universe,
treasured in units
called moments.
Till one day, he
forgot to forget
himself
in fleeting somethings.
Forgot to flutter.
Forgot to feel.
Today, he told me,
the
biting cold,
a moon blushing shades of gray,
a mouthful of fragrance of a flowers busy dying,
a silent beam of moonshine locking her finger under his chin,
made him spend the night
crying.
‘a silent beam of moonshine locking her finger under his chin’yummy. I’d spend my night crying, sure.
Laauv!
Beautiful.