a sphere of diamonds

i’ve never thought of the science behind space, nor wanted to understand it. yet the moon has always been my comfort at night; when there was a moon, there were no nightmares. i don’t think of werewolves on nights like these, but rather of waves, tides, far away from me. i missed her last night, and i’m hoping tonight we’ll see each other and talk of old times.

and as i zoom in on her craters, exploiting her secrets, she doesn't protest or stop me. just sits there, snug in a blanket of darkness, listening to my whispers scattered into the night. sometimes, she'll even bring my dad, hidden inside a single star, and although they'll both be gone by morning, it's never a tragedy; rather a paradox: "i must be cruel to be kind."