Broken strings & Pretty things

The world, seen through a young girl's eyes.

Berlin.

Sometimes I wonder whether the moon misses the sun.

I wonder whether there truly is silence in space
Maybe instead the stars themselves
Are psychedelic whispers transcending
Across the velvet skyline.

Or maybe the moon does not actually miss the sun.

Because maybe there is happiness in knowing
That they are moving in a parallel waltz
That maybe just sharing the same atmosphere
Is enough.

Because one day each celestial glide
With each side’s unshakable zeal
Will one day meet

In the warmth and brightness
Of a silver eclipse.

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