🌑 The Girl That Kissed the Moon 🌑

🌑 To Girl That Kissed the Moon 🌑

— the curse breaker, the one they couldn’t name.

She came from a place where love was withheld, where silence raised voices and secrets swelled. Her childhood was chaos dressed up as calm, and her heart learned to beat without knowing a psalm. Her family never kissed the moon, never dared, they said it was cold, distant, and scared. But it wasn’t fear it was shame they passed down, wrapping her light in a secondhand frown. They told her, “Don’t reach for what we never knew,” not realizing her soul came drenched in truth.

She grew in the cracks where love had died, behind locked doors where joy had lied. Her parents feared the light that made her bloom, because it exposed what they buried in shadow and gloom. They never thought the moon would reach their kin never believed healing could begin from within. But she felt its pull in the depths of her ache, and something inside her refused to break. She moved through the shadows with sacred grace, hiding galaxies behind her face.

They said, “Don’t touch it. Don’t trust it. Don’t try.” But the moon kept calling from the corner of the sky. It didn’t speak in fear it sang in code, it spoke of things no one at home showed. It knew her name before she was born, and waited through every storm she’d worn. They called her rebellious, said she strayed from their plan, not knowing she was healing what they ran from in man. She wasn’t disobedient she was divine, the first to unclench from the family line.

One night she whispered, “I’m ready to feel,” tired of pretending, tired of the steel. She kissed the moon like a prayer in the dark, and it lit up the sky with the flame in her heart. It didn’t ask her to be polite or be still it welcomed her wounds and honored her will. In that sacred kiss, generations were freed pain unraveling like forgotten seed. Her ancestors wept in the quietest tune, because she did what they couldn’t she kissed the moon.

Now she walks with the power of ten thousand names, no longer bound by invisible chains. The moon didn’t just heal her it rewrote the fate, of a bloodline taught only to carry hate. She’s the one that brought color to gloom, the one that turned pain into petals in bloom. They still may not understand what she chose, but she grew where their love never rose. And now every night, when the moon takes its throne, it shines for the girl who healed on her own.

She is the calm they feared and the storm they denied, the softness they silenced and the truth they defied. But no more pretending, no more cocoon she broke the curse…

This poem is for the curse-breakers.

The ones born into families that feared their light. The ones who were raised in silence, shame, and survival, but still chose to heal. The Girl That Kissed the Moon is about becoming everything your lineage never had the language for. It’s about the pain of being the first. The first to feel. The first to cry. The first to say, “This ends with me.”

Her family never kissed the moon.

They never knew what healing looked like.

They only knew how to pass down pain.

But she did what they couldn’t. She reached for something sacred.

She kissed the moon her intuition, her wholeness, her divine feminine energy and in that moment, she reclaimed every piece of herself they tried to dim.

She is the one they called too much…

And the one they’ll thank in silence when they finally feel peace.