Dearest Luna,
It's been so long since I've used that name. To say that what happened no longer phases me would be the definition of a lie. Nothing feels the same without your comfort. The warm blanket of love being ripped off left me defenseless against the real world. I cannot look at the moon without having thoughts of you. The constant thoughts of what you are up to and how you're doing accompanied by the ache of self loathing berate me in the nighttime. It serves me right.
Now, we are just perfect strangers. Your words and actions no longer thought about, my heart no longer beating for your love. That is, at least what I have been trying to tell myself. That it was better this way, that it would've hurt more if I had never said those hurtful words. The truth is, I loved you, and still do. That fact alone is the scariest thing I have ever been through.
The flowers of my garden no longer grow, nothing does. Acres and acres of dead land surround me and my thoughts. If only I had been smarter. I am both selfish and a coward, and you deserved more, just as you do now. In trying to save myself, I not only hurt myself, I hurt you, a precious lily flower that shines brighter than any flower that ever grew.
I still remember that day like it was yesterday. I can clearly remember the flowers. They were weeping. Weeping for you, weeping for us. Weeping for what we were, and for what we could've been.
It is now that I notice the only one still weeping is me.
-gloria
