Under The Moon

I will walk with you. Into the night, under the stars, or under a raincloud.

I will make an umbrella out of the sky and I will hold it above you as if it was my wing. It will be edged in silver, in crescents of light, like the moon on the tip of each feather.

Will you come walking with me? On this night? Whether moonless and starbane, or full of light - as if the sky was dipped in a bowl of stars?

Our footsteps harmonize, our breaths are the wind from the north meeting the wind from the south. Our hands held together, by a chain of interlocking fingers, speaks in whispers: "I want you here with me."

I want to collide with you. To wrap around you and forget where I end and you begin. To find some hidden place in you and open it, to taste what is there. I imagine it is richer than blood, richer than sunlight.

I would like to draw it to your skin with the tip of my finger, so it shines, on this moonless night, or else  outshines the moon.

So it must be nighttime when we take a walk. I can only find the deepest places in you under the moon.

Art by Alex Andreev

Text by Lucie MacAulay