where’s the moon?

i quietly stumbled upon words on the page one of an old paper from the orange journal above the grey storage beside the tidy bed. the clock was past above midnight, almost 2am in the morning. blue curtains on the right side of the bookshelf, big world maps hanging on the white wall. i would like to write a letter to my beloved. i would like to write a letter to the sky, asking him where’s the moon. it’s been days, gloomy, cloudy all day all night. the moon was out of sight, the cloud was all over the atmosphere. i had a quick convo with Mr. Night Sky last night, the sky told me; calming the rush inside my heart, “even if you are not able to look at the moon with your bare eyes, you shouldn’t be worried, for it always is up there. it would never leave you alone with the dark empty sky. it will always be there. worry not, my dear. the moon is there within your heart”

i heard gravity did tie the moon to the earth, it’s like holding hands i guess. the earth loves the moon so much. day and night both being the witnesses of how pretty the moon was and still is. do you know and can you and would you describe within your own language about how beautiful it is to have the moon around, to have it all shining and looking all mesmerizing from up above the starry night sky. and in this indescribable numbness in between the day and night; “how does it feel being loved by the moon so very deeply?”

do you know why i like to learn foreign languages? so that i could understand the language that the moon speaks, so I wouldn’t misunderstood upon things between the two of us. 

do you know why i like to write down some poems? so that i could tell you in a much better phrase about things between constellation and the northern lights.

do you know why i like to read a book? so that i would understand things that i haven’t mastered yet about the knowledge between the past, present, and the future. in the hope that i can share it all the memories of the past, the joy of the present, and the hope of the future with you. can i?

do you know why i like to daydreaming with both my eyes wide opened while letting the ocean breeze gently touch my face? so that i could make a dream come true within hopes and the waves in the name of the vast blue both explored and the unexplored ocean.

how do i tell the moon that im currently lost and need to be found. how do i tell the moon that i have so much stories to tell, how do i tell the moon that i haven’t felt like myself lately, how do i tell the moon that i really need a hug right now, how do i tell the moon that i really need a shoulder to cry on, how do i tell the moon that i miss the smell of that one perfume, how do i tell the moon that the cassiopeia is now waiting for the moon to write her back, poems and letters from the last journey the moon had over the orbit. 

“how do you spell your name, anyway?”

“you don’t know how to spell my name?”

“i thought everyone does know the right spelling of mine”

“it’s started with the 13rd letter”

“‘M’ it is”

“it’s your guess”

“it is M-O-O-N”

“hmm not quite right actually”

“how so?”

“you can spell it M-I-N-E, for you are indeed my favorite one on the entire universe”

do you know that all the good beautiful things started with the letter “M”?

Moon

Mountain

Miracle 

Music

Magic

Money:)

Mango

Mermaid

Midnight

Meow

.

.

and you

the moon said “see you soon” and that’s what keeps me going.

I don't want to cry like that again...

let me stroke your hair with my soft hands. last night was February 25th, it was kinda special. for it was Sunday when we both got to spend the day together, you took me to a cafee and we had brunch. walking upstairs on the second floor with the view; sunny day, ocean blue, white sands, ships on the shore bringing some loads, tuna fish probably. lemon tea was the drink we ordered, it’s not the usual, no coffee, just lemon tea. the chicken steak I ordered was good, hot plate, potato and carrot on the side. you ate your favorite seafood and asked me which one’s my favorite between chicken and duck. the food was good.

the clear blue February’s sky, uncovered by the clouds, always ever-bewitchingly stunning, pretty sure they are packed with pixie dust and warm pecks of memories. there’s even the moon or is it a big sprinkle of pixie dusts? one can only wonder.

i can tell the sky was quite bright, too bright, and the breeze was too strong and my eyes couldn’t even properly opened, half opened and still struggled with the dust flying through the wind. the whole afternoon was too good, deep convos over things that we dont even know the answer yet. the mystery of the universe and the things in between.

you wore your deep army shirt with that blue jeans and that smile behind your brown blackish eyes. on the way home 6 pm in the evening, choosing which spot to stop by, watching the sun sets. getting some snacks and you ordered hot chocolate as i took water instead. the evening was calm as well as my heartbeat. the yellow, pale, orangish shade of the sky up above making your face a bit red. i told you about writing letters and put it inside a bottle and throw it away on the ocean. a fisherman while fishing on the sea or a seven year old kid might find it and keep it just for the sake of good fortune.

and i dont know when i love your eyes more, when they are half open or open or shut. it’s mid night 00.18 am. now. i stumble upon the thought of you. for some reason i think you’re on a boat or anywhere near the shore, star gazing, taking both of your hands behind your head as a pillow. as I recall I probably already told you about a thousand times how much I love star gazing and how much I love the night sky. 

it’s cold today, but in a spring way. 

February 25th. 

i don't want to cry like that again. I just wish if ever I will cry again, it would be the time, the happiest time with you.

how regrettable that we meet each other so late in life but how fortunate that it’s still not too late. 

all i do here is read a book, write poetry, drink too much coffee, and romanticize my melancholic solitude. who am i if not a lover and a lover of letters?