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He's the Moon

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He's beautiful like a black hole

pulling you in till you can't see color anymore, but color doesn't compare to the dark

spitting you out in another dimension, one where the light doesn't shine and hate make up his skin

he doesn't hear your calls, to busy drowning in his own lack of love for the world

he doesn't like the sun, says its light is mocking his darkness-it tries to ruin his claim on the earth, you start to glower at it as well

he gives you glances that makes you believe that somewhere in him is a whole raging fire tearing apart his words before they can come spilling out of his mouth

his eyes, god his eyes he claims to be dull and mud like, you kiss his eye lids and tell him they remind you of galaxies made of blue veins and midnight hours

his heart is missing most nights, caught up in the meanings of things you don't understand you hold him close and try to share your own over worked heart

you can't remember the last time the sky looked as good as his skin, even with the scratches and dents left from others

his mouth burns like what you think hypothermia would feel like

his clothes match the secrets he tells you at two am tangled around you, the words he says seem to think that murder wouldn't be too bad or that playing with people is a necessary to get to the stars

the spikes on his over prices shoes remind you of the way he doesn't look at you besides when his bed is empty and you've been to nice lately, niceness is going to hold you back he reminds you the next morning

he reminds you of a black hole that killed your sun-and you love him because light could never shine as bright as he does