a poem my sister wrote (untitled)

I wanted to feel the moon hit my skin.
I wanted its light to be bright enough to make me squint.
I wanted the stars to be so close that they burned white.
I wanted to see you ache for me.

I tried to capture who I thought you were in a jar like a glowing insect in the summer air but every time I thought I had you cupped in my hands, I opened empty fists. I didn't want to admit that I was fighting for a construction of my imagination and I pretended for as long as I could that you and I were attached by golden flames, each fighting to burn brighter for each other. You were a reflection of my youth, a mirage of how I used to see the world before I knew people existed who would take pieces of me just to have them. People who find satisfaction in grabbing bits for their collection and move on. People like you.

I wanted the moon to speak english.
I wanted her to whisper me lullabies,
and sway with the orchestra of the clouds.
I wanted you to look up and see what I see.

Thanks for reading.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4joc8d/its_killing_me_inside/d38acx8

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4jndi3/those_memories_hang_on_cobwebs/d38akvv