The nighttime came,
Fulfilling its promise to come back.
Illuminating the whole world,
By revealing the beautiful stars.

Staring up in the sky,
With tears falling downhill,
Trying to make my cheeks dry,
But it's no use, still.

You're not here with me,
I'm not there with you.
Just like the sun and the moon,
Chasing each other, but can never meet.

Everytime I see stars,
I see your face.
It leaves me a scar,
From the remnants of your trace.

Good night, my everlasting light,
I know you can't hear me.
Sleep tight, alright?
A new day of sorrow awaits me.

some people say
that to be alive
is to hear yourself breathing,
feel your heart beating incessantly,
taking blood, vessel by vessel, from each vein.

sometimes
i lie awake at night
and i hear myself breathing.
i hear myself breathing and i feel my heart beating,
taking blood, vessel by vessel, from each vein.

i look up at the moon and its pale white face,
in stark contrast with the blackened cloak of night.
i cannot hear its soft, subtle breath.
i cannot hear its heartbeat.

but still, it shines —
shines with a greatness i could never reach,
never conquer.
it shines because it wants to be,
wants to exist.

some might say that the moon could never want.
but i know that brightness.
it does not come unless first there is a longing.

i never hear the moon breathing,
but i see it shine.
and somehow, in that shine,
it is more alive than i will ever be.

(a.m.)