You offer to rope the moon for me,
To tether her silver weight and drag her to the porch—
A trophy of light for a heart you think is empty.
But darling, I do not need her brought down;
I have felt her pulling at my blood since I was a seed.
My tides rise when she peaks,
And my shadows lengthen when she hides.
We are already in lockstep, she and I—
Two quiet mirrors reflecting the same ancient ache.
Keep your ropes and your grand promises of the sky.
I have enough celestial fire to burn through the night.
The only thing missing from this altar isn't the light above,
But the heat of you beside me.
I don't want the moon.
I want the one who isn't afraid to stand with me
In the dark she leaves behind.