Letters from a Ghost Sender of the Moon

I was born, grew up, and lived to love you.

I was born, grew up, and lived to think of you.

I was born, grew up, and lived to look at you

And to smile whenever you did.

But I didn’t grow up or live to see your eyes fade away as if they were stars

Nor to grieve with you even more than I already did

And yet, despite all that, despite the joys, the sorrows, and the confusion.

You weren’t born, you didn’t grow up, and you don’t live for me.

You didn’t love me, you didn’t think of me, nor did you look at me the way I did.

You weren’t meant for me, even though I longed for you to be

You were never mine, even though my dreams said maybe.

Now that I have nothing left

Now that you’re a ghost crossing the valley of oblivion

All I can do is look at what I once left behind for you and make it mine again.

You are not the one who will save me, nor am I the one to save you from your own hell.

Can you realize that no one else can save us now?

We are lost—I, not knowing what I’m living for, and you, not knowing for whom you were born.

Truly, I tell you, it weighs on my soul in the heat of 3 p.m.

And when the rain falls at 5 p.m., it’s as if my soul were crying with it.

Is the sky crying for my misfortune? Or for us?

The moon hides from me; it can’t bear to see that my very bones scream that I loved you

For every time I see it, I feel as if my footsteps were returning to you once more

and it seems I must be born again

to live the way I was supposed to have lived from the very beginning

but because of the sweet caress of your love, I have wasted away until I am forgotten.