father told me to daydream about boys with eyes that held luna's hues, for their orbs carried moonbeams that bewitched every curious soul like mine. someone with a palm that bears museums and archives of poems, because their soul is a library and wanderers won't get tired loving them. someone who cried meteorites or breathe stardust, since girls always lost themselves on the idea of branding someone as their universe. someone who placed an odeum of spoken poetries and 'i love you's' overlayed with metaphors, for every maiden grew fondness at each words that came out on a deceiver's tongue.
i saw dangers and adventures residing on your wild hair. i witnessed how every sunrises printed battle scars on your palms. wildflowers grew in between your ribcage, hurricanes came out every you spoke, and earthquake started when you strucked your feet on the ground. i have seen the storm dwelling on your soul every midnight, that even the heavens feared one touch from you. but i found every inch of your space dust terribly. perfectly. impeccably. all together glorious.
and i will love your every wreckage until sol no longer burns at the sky. until fools already saw the end of our never-ending universe. until the oceans run dry. i will love you, until the end of our fucking time.