The one who wrote a serenade to the moon | Teen Ink

The one who wrote a serenade to the moon

September 10, 2021
By Giovanna-Tomaz BRONZE, São Paulo, Other
Giovanna-Tomaz BRONZE, São Paulo, Other
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

The cold glass of the window welcomes the warmth of my fingertips. My heartbeat’s pace does not go unnoticed. My eyes long for the mesmerising view lying behind the curtains. I can finally see you again.

The cold night air hits my skin like a match being set on fire meets the candle that perpetuates its light. My pupils grow anxious by the second, wondering what mysterious paths they will have to follow until your presence is noticed.

Looking for you is the kind of routine that never gets old or dull. The mere thought of your comforting glow on my soul makes my lips recite the deepest secrets, fears, dreams and expectations lying within this spirit.

The gentle pearly tone engulfs my heart in the warmest hug. The familiar safety starts running through my veins, it is impossible not to stare at you, there is not a single drop of vanity dancing around the purity of your beauty. I can almost hear your voice. Slightly feminine, powerful, wise, comforting and... confidential.

I wonder if the poets could ever translate your resemblance into something written. It feels unfair, to be honest. The delicacy of your features should be admired for hours by every single pair of eyes to walk this earth.

My mind effortlessly starts to picture what your aura must have seen throughout the years of existence on your shoulders. How many stolen kisses, last hugs, painful tears, wonderful miracles, drunk laughs roaming around the streets, sweet glances, desperate cries have you seen?

Oh, how many fools must have blamed you for the raging tides, the foggy night that changed their lives, the end of a love  story or lack of answers.

I cannot help but smile when concluding that the biggest fool must be me and my silly heart, writing love letters to you involuntarily. I hope you haven’t received many before, my narcissist self wants to have a special place, wants to be your most avid talker and listener.

Can you keep my letter the way you keep my excruciating secrets?

Can I be given  the honor of being known as the one who wrote a serenade to the moon?

The author's comments:

To me, words have always been one of the main gates to the soul. They will always be there for you. The moon has also always been there when words did not make justice to the immensity of my feelings. Writing about it seemed fair, to say the least. I hope you can feel as mesmerized by this poem as I feel by the moon's beauty. 

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