We rise with the sun.
We frolic under his rays.
His light makes the bleak days better, his absence makes the joyful ones worse.
His warmth brings a sense of security.
We see everything when he looks upon us, the world is clear, finite.
The sun sees me in the company of others, laughing, talking.
But there are so many others he has to see.
So many others to shine his light upon.
He cannot look to closely, a glance will suffice.
He sees only the mask.
He does not know that I question my every move.
He does not know about this act I put on.
He does not know that I can't choose the version of myself that I want to be.
He has no time for me.
When everyone's pretty heads hit their pillows he is done for the day.
He will rise in the morning, consistent.
But when the world is hidden in shadow, I am not asleep.
When I sit in my window and look out into that inky sky is when I am most awake.
Everything is louder in the darkness.
Every whisper, footstep, and breath.
So who will be there when the sun is not, to quiet my deafening thoughts?
Luna.
She sits in the sky, waiting for me.
She casts her own rays upon my skin.
She illuminates the world in her own, beautiful way.
She touches me with her calm, blue light.
She is close, much closer than him.
If you look closely, you will see her even when it's not dark.
Just sitting.
Sitting in the sky.
The sun goes away, but Luna never really leaves.
Yes, once a month she can't be seen.
She's invisible, but that doesn't mean she's not there.
My eyes rest upon her milky face while my mouth recites my tangled strings of thought.
She listens.
I tell her I am unsure about everything all the time.
She listens.
Luna never asks for anything in return.
But she is always there, whether you know it, or not.
The sun may be my friend, but the moon knows all my secrets.
