I saw a picture of you today. The light was hitting your face so perfectly. You looked so beautiful; so happy. I hate myself for thinking it. I hate you for making me think it. Even after all this time those three words still dare to cross my lips.

How could the sun ever love the moon? When all the moon does is bring darkness to the. The brighter days are hushed by the nightfall. Black engulfs the landscape around.

There were days when you would bring light; The moon would shes a yellow glow awaking the nocturnal. Its almost as bright as the sun itself. Those were the moments when you loved me. Those were the moments I was the one making you happy. I'm not anymore. This picture proves it.

There's a a full moon tonight. I sit and watch it. The light hits my face. I can almost feel your kisses for a moment. They don't last. I gather myself. I wait until the sun rises again. That's all I can do.