Iridescence, lingering on the surface, lying placidly across the room and all which the sun carelessly rests its head upon.

Reflected on the floor the faint glimmering of a tangent afternoon, windswept away were the tinted clouds; Sulking for hours, waiting for you. Sullenly in the corner, stirring for you.

I caught you in the corner of my eye, astigmatic we'd mistaken our bedside, remiss to find you hidden behind blinds and not in my arms, hide and seek is not your speciality so I'll say this;

Listlessly and with blemishes I make my way through life, at dusk when the light is gentle and the moon veers into color, I quiver to life like a bat. Sights fail me and I cannot prospect my surroundings with the same refraction or purity as you can, opalines instead are the object of my fascination.

Moonstone that you are, subject to change with every turn, wistful and blindingly sincere to what you want, I cradle your crescent design.

I see the child who yet dreams at night, ever present is their shadow casting over me, fragile are her whispers but fleeting are her sorrows, I couldn't treat you any other way but gently, it would break me.

carrying you into the other room, we catch the glimmering in the narrow opening of our eyes, as we pretend not to be looking, for a moment I wonder, is this what its like to die? Would you go with me like children past their bedtime, and pretend to be asleep deep into the night?