I was a moon and I envied the stars, but shooting stars the most.
Because for a moment, they look like the sun.
And everyone loved the sun. That’s why I wanted to be one so bad.
What I didn’t realize was that you loved the night more than the day. You loved things that glowed through the brightness of another.
You only ever looked at the moon. Not the stars and not the sun.
You weren’t like everybody else. It was the moon you loved.
And with that, I’ve never been happier to be a moon.
To be your moon.