this world of ours.

the moon wishes it could see the sun,
that it was not shadowed
by the earth.

they are both so far apart,
each time the moon gets close,
the world pulls her in again,
and away from her heart.

this love-making,
it will not end.
it is a story who's ending
has not been written.

you say all is written?
no.
i am not written.

neither are the sun,
the moon,
or their stars.

they will live unwritten,
knowing only unrequited,
perhaps, unwanted,
love.

but i don't need to tell you this.
you don't need to know this tale.