I Tell My Secrets to the Moon

I owe everything to the moon.

I will not tell you who I am; that you don’t need to know.

You see, the moon is alive and the sun knows about me,

but the moon knows all of my secrets.

She is my person.

The one I go to for everything.

The one I can't live without.

The one I can't stay mad at

and the person who supports me in everything I do.

She holds me close until my pieces come together again.

I depend on the moon for sleep.

I try to shut my eyes in the presence of the sun,

but my body cannot, and will not, rest without the moonlight.

These are the reasons I can't live without her.

Despite popular opinion,

I do believe in the power of infinities.

I am in no comparison to the universe.

I do not take course around the sun;

my world will only revolve around the moon.

The moon knows all of my secrets—she feels my love and she feels my pain.

The open scars that may remain have seeped within her soul

and filled the back of her cerebral.

She once asked me what my favorite thing about people was.

I closed my eyes and drew in a short breath and gave her my answer.

“Body language.”

Although she was intrigued by this response, she asked me to explain.

I told her that the body can reveal more about a person than words ever could.

It's true—body language can display secret attitudes or hidden thoughts, all the while exposing every little feeling or emotion.

I wonder if she noticed how I had fallen for her.

You can never truly understand the moon.

Her torturous beauty is unmistakable.

Her poise; undoubtful.

She’s the kind of girl that can change the atmosphere of a room just by flashing a smile. Her chestnut brown hair flows effortlessly in what feels like slow motion.

The speed of my heartbeat travels well over 100 beats a minute;

all she has to do is say hello.

She knocks the wind right out of me with each subtle stare.

Challenging my attention,

making sure that the only thing that exists are her emerald green eyes—

for only a second did I resist.

It became too much for me.

I didn’t like that she controlled my thoughts, feelings, and emotions.

I couldn’t stand in a crowded room and only search for her.

I practiced the words in my mouth and

hoped for better nouns, adverbs and syllables.

I hoped she wouldn't notice, but by the smirk on her lips,

I could tell that she was aware of the effects she held over me.

I found myself sitting up more straight,

constantly trying to better myself for her.

Her eyes screamed “love me or leave me alone”

and at first, I didn't mind;

but as soon as she started to do nothing but concentrate

on my voice, my words, and my actions,

I could no longer do anything but panic.

I just couldn’t possibly give her that love in return.

That's when I tried to push her away.

I tried to make the moon jealous.

I filled stranger’s ears with my secrets

and let them vacate the most personal parts of my existence.

We sat on fields and discussed the stars—

both dead and brightly burning.

I fell into this black hole filled with spilled secrets;

realizing that she was the only one that kept them safe.

I spoke of the moon so much the stranger’s thoughts began to look like her.

I began to not recognize myself—

only losing my mind with the thought of her.

I know that I’m the reason for her troubles, that I cannot deny.

You hear people talk about their first loves and how hard it is to let go.

You’re probably sick of my longing words—

but I can't forget her. She’s taught me so many things.

She was my person.

The one I went to for everything.

The one I can't live without.

The one I can't stay mad at

and the person that supported me in everything I did.

she let me breath.