On Breaking up with the Moon
Look, it just isn’t working. After all, I am a woman and you? You are a huge sphere of rock, tracing an elliptical orbit through space. We’re from different worlds. You circumvent the earth at two-thousand, two hundred and eighty-eight miles per hour, and I just can’t keep up with you. You’ve been so distant lately, but two-hundred and fifty thousand miles is distance enough for anyone. And I know you are wonderful. The nights we spent together were glorious. But when I don’t see you for weeks of cloudy skies I start to feel jealous of the stars. Let me start again: I love the way you borrow the light of others and reflect it back to them. You are so generous, but we both know this isn’t going to pan out. Maybe I just need some space. You can be so cold, unforgiving, until I’m left wondering if there’s life out there at all. Sometimes you overshadow me until I feel eclipsed. And I’ll admit it: I’m a little afraid of your dark side. And I wouldn’t say you’re indecisiv