i know i need us more than i need me
In the moments before she tells me her name, I tell myself that her tears come of their own volition. The newness of my siren song prevents me from understanding the full effects of its beautiful keen, feels as foreign to me as the sister I lost to the dreamscape. Foreign and familiar. Somewhere between a hug and a home invasion. A pain I recognize as pleasure the same way I recognize her tears as coming from her and not me. Externalized.
I am Moonlet.
I inhale to speak but pause at the sound of her doing the same. My head pulls back, my blue eye sinking to the curve of her parting lips before rising back to the brown of her eye, so like gold in the shine of my starlight.
Indius, so beautiful.
"If I am beautiful, then take me as I am," I reply, stuck somewhere between the present moment I share with the stranger before me and the one I wish to dream of with a sister whose existence to me fades night by night. "It must be enough to be beautiful, some nights." I murmur, my voice catching on the last word as though the pain of my song affects me now, too. I inhale, pause, and wonder how long the spell will last, if it has worked at all.
"I know it is enough for me tonight," I say at last, gazing with an apparent intention into Moonlet's saucer-wide eyes, wondering if she will accept me the way I hope to be accepted.
I don't bother asking myself about the truth of my words nor the truth of my wandering eye and lost, excited, and dampened mind. The meaning of truth escaped me long ago when I realized I would live this life as a jaded, jagged second-half, the realized and dreamless half of a shared ovum.
"But please," I say, breaking the tension just a touch as I step back as though to allow the woman some space. "Please. Tell me why you cry," I whisper. "Moonlet." I try out her name almost as an afterthought, running my tongue over the taste of its syllables as though to discern as much about her as I can in one little word.
I am Moonlet.
I inhale to speak but pause at the sound of her doing the same. My head pulls back, my blue eye sinking to the curve of her parting lips before rising back to the brown of her eye, so like gold in the shine of my starlight.
Indius, so beautiful.
"If I am beautiful, then take me as I am," I reply, stuck somewhere between the present moment I share with the stranger before me and the one I wish to dream of with a sister whose existence to me fades night by night. "It must be enough to be beautiful, some nights." I murmur, my voice catching on the last word as though the pain of my song affects me now, too. I inhale, pause, and wonder how long the spell will last, if it has worked at all.
"I know it is enough for me tonight," I say at last, gazing with an apparent intention into Moonlet's saucer-wide eyes, wondering if she will accept me the way I hope to be accepted.
I don't bother asking myself about the truth of my words nor the truth of my wandering eye and lost, excited, and dampened mind. The meaning of truth escaped me long ago when I realized I would live this life as a jaded, jagged second-half, the realized and dreamless half of a shared ovum.
"But please," I say, breaking the tension just a touch as I step back as though to allow the woman some space. "Please. Tell me why you cry," I whisper. "Moonlet." I try out her name almost as an afterthought, running my tongue over the taste of its syllables as though to discern as much about her as I can in one little word.
Indius
""
@[Moonlet] I hope this is good??? I don't know what it is??? Boys are hard to write.