Get you the moon.

Isn’t it odd how often we think of others but never realise we are thought of,

to learn you were once the main character in other peoples poetry,

how each poem ends it tragedy, with you breaking hearts and no longer being a blossom.

to learn somebody dreamed of you being part of their eternity, to learn of the guilt they feel for it not being a reality, the traumas you faced instead. 

And now I lay wishing I could get you the moon.