A Love Letter to my Lunar Muse

Dearest Celine,

🌒Night after night, I devoured volumes of what came before. Pages crumbled to dust, yet I hungered for more. Letters chase spaces, flowing into words, fluent language is achieved, a lullaby pouring from heart and soul. An architect building cities in my dreams from thoughts and memories, wooden letter blocks carved and stacked, higher and higher, layered with meticulous craft.

🌓I found salvation in the form of phrase, your soft warmth beaming in letters and rays. Shyly, your midnight voice beckoned, lyrics drawing me from tundra of paralyzing history, never fading. The guidance of your brilliant light revealed a path through darkness and mystery. Providing proof, I deceived myself, thinning the paint-blackened redactions over my weeping eyes. Reading by your light, resting this tired sight in the harsh light of day.

🌔Never diverting your gaze, knowingly, patiently, you molded and sculpted me. Took my years of mindlessly recorded agony, instructed me gently in the art of re-interpretation. My tearful pleadings transmute to gold. You condescended, carried my useless, beaten soul through the dingy streets of reminiscence on glowing golden beams. Gently lowered me into a bed of verses and covered me with a quilt of lilting script. Letters stitched, connected with the express purpose of healing fractured mind and body, stiff.

🌕Now, I delight in the miraculous form you lovingly take at the finish of every trying day. When sweet whispers, you remotely breathe into my word-bound breast. Your lunar rhythms and tidal cadence permeate my very being. You wept tears of luminous ink in a fit of creative empathy. My champagne skin has been imprinted, all my secret surfaces embellished, telling the shocking truth that lies within.

Forever indebted,

Your ink-stained servant,

K.B. Silver