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I wrote about the girl I look for in the cracks. I’m wondering if she’s still in my storybook, hiding behind the finished pages and twisting through the run on sentences. I fell in love with her once. Her hands could outline my very existence. I fell in love with her a second time, no romance was needed to light this fire in my heart. She was a daffodil in the rising moonlight, all bathed in silver and sparkling glamour. I wonder if this silver-screen movie star would ever look back down on the people she left on earth. The people she exchanged for a handshake with the man in the sky. I don't know if God is real but if they are they must love practical jokes because while she was nearly allowed to join the angels I had to sit here and ponder the best way to call her.

I’m still in love with her. Romantic feelings aside, I look for her in every winter moon. In every fallen leaf I tear apart my trees looking for the branches that could support her where I never could. I’m not sure whether she loves me back but somehow it doesn’t matter. So long as she is smiling bright enough to light up every room, to dazzle the skies with her eyes. She means the world to me, even if my world is cracked and jagged in places, I still hold it cupped in my hands, searching for the smooth parts to have her rub against like velvet. 

I wonder if she will ever see this poem. If she has given up on my project to fill our lungs. If it’s only a matter of time before she’s told that her life is better without me in it. I’m afraid. Afraid that I’ll never see her again. That she’s free without me and can finally feel the wind on her face. Maybe I just need to turn to face the breeze to join her. Maybe I just need to fall into the moonlight, and let the stars light up my night sky once more.