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i wish i could see the moon.
as much as yeonjun describes it to me, all i can do is hear the awe that leaves his mouth when he sees it in the night sky. he says it looks like the texture of cheese, which makes me smile as i imagine a big bite being taken out of the light yellow ball. i’ve never known what the colours looked like, but i like to think that yellow is warm, a comforting sight for yeonjun as we take our nightly walk.
i can hear the sounds of the water trickling, there must be a stream nearby. every once and a while, a lone cricket makes me jump, the soft material of my hoodie tightening over my chest. yeonjun told me that the colour is dark enough that it’s almost black. he said it suited my hair well. i trust him.
we moved to the outskirts of the city because the sounds were so overwhelming. here, in our tiny little house near the forest, there were never any sirens, only the small bell ringing of our cat, tobin, as he pattered around the living room looking for the perfect resting spot.
“kai, you’re shaking,” yeonjun would say as yet another ambulance blared down our street. he somehow always knew when it got too much to bear. he would hold me until the roaring sound was gone, pressing gentle kisses to my temple.
i bet he is the most beautiful person in the world. i constantly hear others praising him for his looks, but the only sense of his looks that i have come from gentle touches to his cheek. his skin is soft enough to rival the comfiest bedspread after a long day. i spend most of my time attached to his arm, or wrapped around his waist, comfortably resting my chin on his shoulder, hands flat on his stomach. i don’t need to see him to know that he is beautiful. his kind and gentle way with words and actions is enough for me to call him magnificent.
“the clouds are such a pretty colour tonight,” yeonjun sighed, turning us slightly to the left, presumably to face us toward the pretty sight.
his hand warm in mine, the most painful sentiment my love has ever expressed:
“i wish you could see them.”