The moon. She gives you company and comfort when the sun retires, when the air grows thin and pierces your skin. She guards you until your eyelids go heavy and she lingers when you rise with the sun. You watch the sky as time takes her away and you count the minutes until the sun takes refuge in the west. The sun burns and it blinds; it suffocates and makes the hours feel longer. The moon tells you to rest. She tells you to
rid yourself of the worries that the sun has left behind in a trail of ambers and violets.
But the moon can be restless. She can keep you hostage. She will refuse to leave you in peace. She will engulf you in the navy blanket of the night and make you confess thoughts so dark they only uncover themselves once the sun departs. You’ll toss and you’ll turn under the soft light until she torments you to delirium and cradles you in her
cold embrace.
But still, she stays. She does not drag you to the void only to abandon you. She confronts the void with you. She sits and listens. She wants to discover the parts of you that you keep buried from the daylight, what occupies your mind when you are left in solitude. Because the moon understands how lonely it can be when the world goes silent and the lights go off. When you serve to watch and protect but have no one to
do the same for you. The moon will grasp you in her gentle radiance and keep you up with her because she needs you. She knows that she is the only one who can carry your secrets. The only one who can listen without judgment or pity when you wail in frustration and throw ugly sobs into your pillow. Sometimes you may curse at her for being so invasive, for stealing your slumber and driving you mad. But she gives
you company and comfort when the sun retires, when the air grows thin
and pierces your skin. Your moon.
