my moon. (pt. 2)

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“come to me, my moon,” continued the rain stained note stapled to the tree, “sing me your dreams.”

and there she was, my beautiful moon. as if she heard my estranged woos after all these years. there she stood, pale and mysterious, below the same flickering streetlight i drew a moon underneath with white chalk 30 minutes earlier.

she began to emerge closer, passing tree shadows on the concrete. eyes hidden beneath a black lace cap. matching black lace covering her hands. lips, red as fresh blood. she both frightened and enticed me. it reminded me of my first funeral.

it was 5:11am. the sun, too timid to witness this moment, sat where she couldn’t be seen.

and here i was. a desperate, howling demon. my mouth watering craving, satisfied. my long lost chased dream, in front of my red veiny eyes.

calm yet undaunted, her silver eyes began to peak through the lace as she stood close enough where her cold breaths brushed against my goose bumps, “what dream is chasing you?” she muttered.


DRESS by Motel

Photos by Cachet Retsos
Light Assistance by Beth Kotz

Inspired by The Addams Family
& American Horror Story

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