loving the moon

she’s the moon and I love her so.

the closest thing I ever got to a perfect friend.

every aspect of her was beautiful.

the way her hair looked when she swayed to a song that hit her like an avalanche.

her perfectly different facial features that worked only for her and how they worked for her.

her smile and her longing for her big dreams to become her reality.

I saw life punch her in the gut over and over again and I wish I could take at least one of the blows but all I can do is watch.

I saw her smile fade and her eyes found a new home and that was down cause the sun was blinding.

I remembered when she liked the way the sun looked. she told me it made her feel alive.

I see her look at herself like she’s never enough or maybe too much. I wish she didn’t.

I keep trying to tell her that she is the moon and how she’s out of this world but that doesn’t do anything. she wonders why she isn’t the stars.

she doesn’t realize that the moon is why I love her.