I am the sun. Bright, wild,
everything you’d think you’re
looking for. Then you realize I’m not.
People come to me, sometimes. They take what they want, my
energy, my light, just so they can get a tan. But no one stays
for too long.
Nobody really seeks me out. No one looks at me for more than
a couple of seconds. No one wants too much of me. No one wants to
try for risk of getting sunburnt.
Other times, most of it, everyone’s too busy working, doing
routine, living their lives, to actually stop and notice me.
Busy. Busy, busy. Everyone’s too busy around me. They
can’t wait until the day is over.
The best part of me is the end – the sunset. Or the
I am made up of reality. No one wants to get to know me. Because
reality, life in daylight, the truth, is far too harsh.
she is the night sky. The moon, the stars, and the infiniteness
of life. Memories are born, epic and great, under her crescent
smile. She is made up of romance and magic. She is made up of
People seek her out. Plan travels, schedule to pause their entire
lives just to look at her. And it’s not even a glimpse.
Everyone stays up for hours, sometimes the entire night, just to
spend time with her.
We’re all attracted to her. Drawn to her good vibes and
endless possibilities. She is when we nestle safely inside a
lover’s arms, party all our cares away, or make bonfires to
skinny dip with friends for the first time.
There is nothing dangerous about her. Whether it’s the city
skyline or nature’s aurora – everybody is in love.
She is soft, alluring. Van Gogh painted a masterpiece about
She is boundless. She is perfect. She is beautiful.
I pale in comparison.