You once called me your moon,
A gentle light in your dark nights.
But the moon never begs for attention,
Never asks for anyone to look.
I believed you then, when we were far apart,
Distant yet devoted, I loved you deeply.

I remember your words, soft and kind,
"You are my moon," you said, and I believed.
But you never looked at me the way you looked at the moon,
With wonder in your eyes, with a longing I never saw.

Maybe I was your moon, marked with scars,
Each mark showing the battles I've faced alone.
But maybe I wasn't truly yours,
Because I couldn't make you stay,
Couldn't keep you close like I wanted.

Or maybe I was your moon,
But you grew tired of the night,
The endless darkness where I live.
So you turned away, searching for light,
Leaving me alone in the shadows,
To think about the silence between us.

In your absence, I started to see,
Maybe I was just a brief joy,
A moment of peace under the stars.
For who wants the darkness forever?
Who wishes for an endless night, no matter how calm?

Maybe I was your moon,
Fading in the shadow of your fading love,
Left to drift alone in the quiet night.
I watched you chase the sunrise,
Your heart longing for the light,
Leaving me to float, a silent figure in the sky.

Yet even as I fade, I remember,
The moments we shared, bright and brief,
Like shooting stars across the sky.
And though you found your light elsewhere,
I remain, steady and true,
A moon waiting for someone else to see.

For in the vast night,
There is beauty in the darkness,
A peace in the quiet.
And maybe, someday, someone will see,
Not just the scars, but the light within,
And love the moon for all it is,
In the calm, endless night.
© _areesha