Spoiler
Thanks go to Kamas and MeanMrMustard 8D
You always spoke soft, night-eyes, soft and slow with
clouds in your mouth and starlight pressing lips to
your closed eyes-- you breathed in sight, deep and still,
exhaling midnight air and carving constellations with your
metronome hands, far out of arms' length.
Always always out of reach, you were fluent in
the moon's language, speaking to the sun--
though you never quite knew what you were saying.
When the night bled to bitter sunlight, you blinked in steady tip-taps
with eyelash rustling eyelash, unable to do more.
Steps heavy with the weight of garnered sympathy and heavy curiosity,
you kept a piece of night across your eyes, blinking past the bright rays of light,
with which you just couldn't stand to see.
Stepping slow, you tip-tapped past the sun,
back into the dark and solitude that night made you crave;
without wanting to watch anything anymore, you banked down in the grass and heard everything,
stars sliding past the willow and over the sides of the earth,
and the echoes of tip-tap metronome hands, composing a symphony
of something that couldn't be seen.
