The Moonlit Man

Where are you?

I’ve yet to see the sun and have grown cold, longing for your touch. 

Your golden glow illuminates my image and mirrors emotions of must haves.

You allow the seeds to grow inside of me, and as my mind photosynthesizes I feel as though I am under the earth. 

Where are you?

Where is the sun?

Why cannot I not feel its warmth. I cannot live in these squalid conditions. 

Will I be able to bundle up or will I freeze to death?

These constraints consume me completely and cover my conscience with the cold.

I cannot see, save for the moonlight.

Is that moonlight hope, or the misdirected mirage of a man without his sun. 

I am shackled to the ground, buried alive without my sun.

She is the essence purity, filtered through her deeds and cleansed in her smile.

Send me a sign, rather, a seed.

Plant her next to me so that we may intertwine within eachother.