She Is Selene

I'm not sure if I'm happy being a human.

What is its worth?

Can I lust for the moon enough to hide from it when she shows her full face?

Her blood-selene face?

Can I have the moon close enough to hear her breathe?

I can't.

I'm sure I'm not happy being a human.

I wish I were a werewolf.

I would howl with inhuman insanity,

And urge the moon to come down to me.

I would wait for the moon to tether herself with the blood of the cosmos.

I would wait for the moon to shadow the earth with her ethereal light.

The red-light that she bleeds from her white-core.

That light is not stolen.

That light is hers only.

Her blood-selene light.

I wish I were taller.

Maybe then, I could reach her from the ground.

I could hear her breathe.

I could savor her celestial scent.

I could paint her self with the effervesce of her self.

But I'm still a little human.

I can't reach her.

I can only sigh at her blood-selene face.