You, my dear, are not the sun.
I will not label you as something
that I need in order to survive;

You are not here to make me grow;
I can build castles inside me on my own--
I do not need you in order to rise.

The moon has always been up there,
trying to watch over our lonely souls
and I hear its response through the night's soothing sighs.

And you are not the moon, no,
you do not deserve such a title.
You are not a star,

You are not as wonderful as the galaxies above
and you most definitely are not the universe,
composed of all things strange and lovely.

You, I repeat, are not the sun.
I will not grant you the permission
to help me live.

And I wish I had known that earlier.