You were always the moon, beautiful from every distance, pulling at the tides inside my chest without ever having to ask.
And I was the sun… burning, constant, waiting every dawn for a sky that would finally let us exist together. But somehow, we were always passing by each other, close enough to believe in forever, yet never close enough to stay there.
Every time I thought we had found our orbit again, every time your hand reached toward mine, you drifted a little farther away just barely out of reach, like the universe itself was afraid of letting us belong to one another.
Still… I loved you in every phase. In your darkness, in your silence, even in the cold nights where your light no longer fell on me.
And maybe that is my tragedy that even after the broken promises, after the trust shattered like dying stars between us, my heart still searches the sky for you.
I tell myself to move on… to let the night swallow your name, but the sun does not forget the moon. No matter how many skies separate them, it still rises hoping to see her again.
So if this life was not written for us, then perhaps I will love you in the next one instead in another universe where the sun and moon are finally allowed to share the same sky.