The Cancer moon has bestowed upon the night's sky, and I'm wading in an obsidian sea of nostalgia.
Rose-quartz feelings abound–I reminisce over our late-night shenanigans brimming with drunken laughter, and naked summer afternoons teaching you Spanish.
You were the spellbinding caprice that sparkled my fascination–full of mischief, and a tender vulnerability.
In retrospect, I was too jaded for the unconditional embrace you longed for, but hopefully the current beard isn't. You're most magical when you're happy, and King Duck and I hope he makes you smile.