I told the moon about you. I told her how you make me feel warm and light. How our conversations last for hours without neither of us getting bored. She knows how many little moles and freckles you have on your face. She never says anything back, and I’m okay with that. Sometimes she’ll blow a gust of wind as a response and it’s during those times when I know I need to do something about you. I just wish you‘d talk to me like how I talk to the moon about you.