You are the moon baby and I dream to make you mine. You are the most beautiful thing I have seen and I want my life to be beautiful. So I dream of you. I wish for you. I talk to you. I pray for you and most importantly I hope for you. You create tides in my body, waves in my life and move my soul. And I assume you do it because you love me. Emotions make one so blind. They make an illusion look like reality. It makes the mirage look so real. Every low tide makes me realise that I am probably hoping for the impossible and then you bring the high tide and I think it’s love. Somewhere deep inside I think I know this is stupid and I cannot ever lasso the moon. I can howl at it and cry for it and admire it every full moon night when I get to see it but the moon cannot ever be mine. Hell, the moon cannot ever be anyone’s. He is a loner who loves to be loved and admired and stirs lives by being who he is but it means nothing to him. Heart and emotions and love and connection is not what he was made for. He was made to stand out and shine beautifully in the sky. He is beautiful, he is adorable and he is a heartbreaker.