My Dear Moon,

"For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'."

- John Greenleaf Whittier

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

My dear moon,

The thing about losing someone is that it doesn't just happen once.

It happens over and over again, leaving a mess of broken hearts and tears each time. It happens in the little things of life, which don't seem like much until you've lost them. Like how every morning I wake up not to the sound of the alarm, but the lack of warmth beside my body only to remember it hasn't been there for the past seven months. Or how I make a cup of jasmine tea alongside my coffee for breakfast only to pour all the tea down the drain. Or how last week I searched the entire closet for my favourite black hoodie before I realized it was never mine to begin with.

Or how yesterday, when your brother showed up at o̶u̶r̶ my place to collect the remaining of your belongings, the only thing I could focus on was how he wore the same perfume you did every time we went out for dinner.

And now, every time I do my laundry, I still can't bring myself to wash the sheets we last slept on together, because somehow, after all this time, it still smells like you.

How every time I try to feed Leo but only end up with whines and scratches on my hand. He always liked you more anyway. I don't blame him.

I remember whenever we sat down for movie night, I'd leave my legs spread open for you to tuck yourself in and nuzzle your cheek against my thigh, leaving small kisses here and there. I remember how I'd run my fingers through your wet hair because despite me telling you a million times to dry it well, you just never seemed to listen.

"I like the cool feeling," you'd say.

I remember how some nights, you'd be tucked against my side and I would draw circles on your arm, the one wrapped around my waist. You would hum, and I could feel the vibrations deep down in my heart.

I remember the first time I called you moon. The tips of your ears turned red as you turned your head away in embarrassment.

"Why moon?" You asked me later that night when we lay in the comfort of our shared blanket.

"Because no matter how dark things get for me, I know that when I look at you, you'll always guide me towards the light."

That was the first time we made love.

Some days, the feeling of melancholy becomes too strong to bear as it leaves a dull ache resonating deep within my bones.

I remember the last time you had trouble sleeping, you were too quiet, and I could sense the trouble in your breathing.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" I asked, my voice thick with sleep.

You latched on to me tighter and spoke in a muffled voice. "I'm scared I won't do well in my performance tomorrow."