The Sun and the Moon

I want to shine.

I want to be important.

I want to be you.

But you are a gleaming star, and I am a moon doomed to reflect you. I shine only with the light you gave me. Your heart, my veins; your mind, my skull; your smile, my dimples.

Worshipping you is the most painful thing I’ve done.

*******

“The moon looks beautiful tonight. It’s shining so brightly.”

“Yes; it makes this nighttime excursion pleasant and easy.”

“What would we do if it wasn’t there?”

“We would carry its memory on our back and trek onwards.”

A year ago, my lie infested you with bravery. We need firewood; we can’t wait.

It was a moonless night. You didn’t see the forest as it dropped into a vast nothingness. I carried your lifeless body on my back; it took me all night to reach our decrepit cabin.

The sun revealed what you’d become. I cursed the sun for crushing what little hope I had. That night, I cursed the moon for its absence.

You’re a skeletal home for maggots. This clinging pain, I want to be you, but something stops me again and again. Is it weakness? Strength? Is it your memory? Or do I still cling to the lie I told you that night?

The moon you once loved is luminous tonight. I pack my bag, and I walk.

It’s only a lie if I don’t follow through.