His eyes are big

Like his hands

His torso long and hair thick
He speaks quietly 

Only familiars know the meaning of

His son is king

At times engulfing

He forgets who he is

But i get it.
He is so beautiful.
He forgets where he came from

Wants to forget what he was made of

Trading money 

For milk and honey
Aquarian sun 
Saggitarius moon

I hope he remembers that beauty

Exists in shadows

And maiden moons

trinkets not made of paper trade offs

But unconditional loving




Never die

Then again….what would I know…

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