I have a crescent moon tattooed on my ribs. It could mean so many things, but I keep the one tied to you closest to my heart. I would never tell you, but you made me fall in love with the sky. Every night walk we took, hands intertwined as we stroll as close to each other as possible, I point upwards. "The moon!", I exclaim, like it's ever anything different. You entertain me with the sweetest smile, squeezing my hand and repeating "The moon!" until it becomes something of ours. The moon I wear around my neck, that you bought for me to celebrate a year of us. An us that no longer exists, but the moon still does. On the silent nights, I drive around with my window down, looking at the moon but searching for you. No matter where we are, we will see the same moon. Sometimes I wish I had never said anything, so I could have the moon to myself. I feel you drift away and I let my hope go with you, but then I get a simple text: "The moon". I'm back to where I was, all those nights ago. Just you, me, and the moon. You trace the moon on my body, and give me a knowing look. "I just like the moon" is an innocent claim, and I pretend that you do not know I think of you. An eclipse, a blood moon, a full moon, they all remind me of you. But the one that represents you the most? The new moon. You cannot see it at all, almost like it was never there.
