"at night when the stars
light up my room
i sit by myself
talking to the moon."—bruno mars, talking to the moonpeople talked, rumours spread about me going crazy.
it started when I couldn't sleep one night. i opened the windows to the apartment, with a can of pepsi and a thick blanket. i was wearing his clothes.
i looked up to the sky, i gazed at the shining stars and bright moon.
and then, out of the blue, i talked. i talked into the air with tears in my eyes, imagining it was him when the wind blew and the stars twinkled.
i spoke to the moon like I would if he was still there.
that night, i remember sleeping in peace. as if he just listened to all my stories and rants, and i could sleep better.
people heard me. they didn't think it would go on, and neither did i. what we all thought was a one-time-thing, turned into a nightly routine.
i received complaints, but i never stopped. i moved out of there before i got kicked out anyway.
i remember pausing while closing the windows the day i moved out, releasing my last words to the air.
"i love you."
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