all the stars are soaked in tears.
all of the night's darkness covered in concealer
and precariously perched sunglasses.
the moons craters can be healed by some cold water
and carefully applied eyeliner.
but why should we cover what happened?
i mean, it just happened,
it just is.
it's not anything except itself,
right?
there are special tears reserved for the night,
for those particular shadows.
sometimes, it's best that the sun doesn't get jealous
that the moon is the only one who gets to see you like this.
'why love the moon
when it is only a reflection?' the sun asks
'it's like loving a mirror,
it's never going to be real'

oh but the moon knows why you love it
there is no such flattering light
as that which falls on your tears
when you decided to stop brushing them away.