It's always nice seeing the moon after days of stormy nights, it's always nice staring at the face of her just in aww, it's always nice to tell her stories that take years to make and to just listen to the tone of her radiance. It's always nice, to just sit and stare at her, as she fills your soul with the gentle melody of life. And when the clouds slowly entroupe her, you can only wait as her rays crawl between them to find you coerced by her velvet soul and Vendetta eyes. She was always better than what the sun can give you, but just like a tiny diamond in a valley of gold, her value is often concealed.
Sometimes I look at the moon and wonder if she thinks the same of me as she did the first time we met, with open hands and rendezvous eyes. Or if she thinks of me differently, if she looks at me and sees the scars I've developed or the smiles that have changed just like the phases of the moon. Or if she sees in me parts that I've yet to find myself. Sometimes I'm afraid she doesn't love me as much as I do, I'm afraid she might not talk to me ever again or she might just stare at me and disappear. For I'd never wish for any companion in the world but the moon.
