I throw open the windows to let the rain in,

so I can feel the clouds melt into my skin.

I can taste the wind, it's sweet on my tongue,

I can feel the breeze fill my glass lungs,

and for the moment, I can breathe.

Staring up at the moon, I stare into dreams.

The night is so close that it can hold me,

swaddle me in constellations, tell me I’m free.

The moon smiles fondly from the sky,

a gentle grin that once watched the sun die

in exchange for a midnight conversation

with the earth and its glowing mortal faces.

I ask the sky if I’ll make something of myself,

and the stars only blink in response from their shelf,

the breeze whispers “I love you” through the window,

and I feel the rain’s tattoo on my skin when I’m alone.

I hold my hand out, and the universe takes it,

with its promises etched into the moon’s phases.