Serendipitously, love found them.
Those casted off poems were made by the fool who dreamed about the moon, though she knew the night had veiled the sky, The glow has been cold in days of yore. She was unaware that she should have been in the embrace of the dawn since the night always did her cruel. She found herself again, all laughter has carved the face since that one sunny daylight guided her peace. She could not believe what was coming as she once used to wring the worry from her skin and carry all the certain things about uncertainty but he doesn't give up on her easily; like a bolt from the blues, she swears she could make a religion out of imagining them doing the dishes together while sharing wishes. Those July eyes found her; a lover after all and this time's love feels like graphene; it's him, the one with the dusk-carved brows, thick and bold as Matterhorn's crest, as if Apollo himself whispered life into a human form, even made her formed as his own Daphne but the story does not end in sacred Galleria Borghese where she turned into a Laurel tree and people can only etch their names along the marble halls; it is a treasure far beyond the smalls. She carries those goodbyes in her throat until the moment their paths curve back into one lane, both of them laughing with wet eyes, setting down what they have held too long. She believes the universe will never tire of bringing them back together, again and again; that's why her heart rests easy.
(rinzsu)