his moonlit dreams was crying stars.

after the sun baked the life right out of him, he cowered to the moon as though he were a lost friend. perhaps that was why the moon became kind to him, savouring the new affection, but knew it needed the proper attention. and as they exchanged wishes and realized their unspoken desires, he glanced away from the moon- that's when he saw her. she was crying stars with a midnight heart; yes, she was lit up by the moon. that's how he knew he was destined to love her.

soon, cuts began to decorate his hands, showing all the times he failed to catch them. and far too often does she wonder if sylvia path had it right, with her melodious hearts and jilted poetry. but he never lets her think so for long, because he loves her and she just needs to know that (even if it seems he's coming off strong). now she spends the nights cowering with him, fingers interlaced and a million promises they've caught from falling out of their mouths. and he's sacrificed his nights to hers, feeling blessed just by the sight of her smiling at him. she cries the stars out in constellations now.

she was a collection of his moonlit dreams in the flesh; he grew to be her everything. the moon smirks at them sweetly, as they dance to the music of their hearts beating. she knows better than to ask of his fears, just as he knows never to speak of her miseries; why, because all they need is for each other just to be there. since loving is more than words, it's the unspoken feelings that stir in the night, while she cries her blinding tears and he caresses her golden hair.