Child of the Dark

It only comes at night.
It watches me while I sleep.
It doesn’t make a sound.

How could it? It’s lifeless and inanimate.

Though I could swear it whispers to me: all the things a girl like me would like to hear.
And I’m not scared of it.

I’m only afraid of never seeing it again, of it leaving me.

And so throughout the day, I pray for darkness to come.
I think I’m crazy, but I must watch it glisten in dark, sometimes even skipping my precious sleep only to observe it.
Yes, I am obsessed.
I am enamored.
I am infatuated with the Moon.

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