I am not fit for sunlight.
I was made for clouds,
And the kind of sweet nostalgia
I am not always eloquent in love,
But I crave your kisses
Like firelight under the moons
Of gold September.
You are not the lust I’ve made,
But the shadow I love darkly.
I bear you in silence,
A ring of purity my eyes suffer to seek.
You are the breath I forgot to take.
You are my mystery.
You are, and will always be, endless to me.