The Night You Stole the Sky
dodie
OLD DEVIL MOON
It happened in the silence between two breaths. I looked at you and I saw it—the theft. You had taken the moon from the sky and kept it for yourself, tucked behind your eyelids. It was an old moon, a devil’s moon, and it was bewitching. I knew then that I was no longer the master of my own sight. The gaze was everything, an inescapable pull toward the light you carried.
"The stars were there, blazing with their ancient, useless light, but they were pale. They could not hold a candle to the razzle-dazzle of your presence."
The world outside became an imitation. The stars were there, blazing with their ancient, useless light, but they were pale. They could not hold a candle to the razzle-dazzle of your presence. It was too much. Too hot. A romance that felt like a burning house we had no intention of leaving. We were high, wide, carried away on a carpet made of nothing but the air between us.
I think of the butterflies. They were not gentle. They were an agitation in the blood, a flutter that felt like a warning and a promise all at once. I wanted to cry, to croon, to laugh with the madness of it. There is a specific kind of loon-like laughter that only comes when the heart is overwhelmed. We were no longer on the ground. We were floating in a space where time had no meaning.
I thought I was free once. I told myself I was like a dove, light and capable of flight, unburdened by the weight of another. But the moon in your eyes changed that. It blinded me with a love that felt far older than our encounter. Just when I thought I was drifting away, the devil moon pulled me back. And in that blindness, I finally understood that freedom is nothing compared to the grace of being lost in you.
The Rain on the Windowpane
The afternoon is grey, a flat wash of color over the city. I am standing by the window, watching the droplets course down the glass like tears that have forgotten why they were shed. It is a quiet stillness, a domestic pulse that beats against the glass. The tea has gone cold in the cup. I am thinking of the way the light looks when it leaves a room, and how, in that absence, your face becomes the only thing I can clearly see, a luminous ghost in the shadows.
Echoes of a Haunted Heart
Chet Baker
"I Fall in Love Too Easily"
The sound of a man realizing he is standing on the edge of a great, beautiful precipice.
Nina Simone
"Wild Is the Wind"
A song that breathes with the desperate, suffocating necessity of belonging to the other.
Stan Getz & João Gilberto
"Corcovado"
The intimacy of a shared secret in a room where the clocks have all stopped ticking.
Declan McKenna
"Slipping Through My Fingers"
Nostalgic reflection colors the beauty and pain of time moving too fast.
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