Illusion

You are the moon and I am the Earth.
I caress your cratered brow

with reverence normally reserved for the sun.

Your radiance is borrowed

but I don’t mind,

and you’ve got a synchronous rotation,

forever showing your sunny disposition,

never really exposing everything.

Half of you is hidden from view

but I’ve seen glimpses of your dark side

and I’m not going anywhere.

I’m not going to be the cause of another crater

on your damaged façade, believe me.
I’ve seen you through every phase,
each full and new and beautiful.

You came ricocheting into my life,

molten and tumultuous as it was,

you put me right and, at my core,

I just don’t have the heart to let you go.

I blame it on my gravity

but, who am I kidding?

That’s just an illusion of the warped space-time,

you would agree if you knew what I meant.

I know all I appear to be,

nothing special really,

there has to be billions of me in billions of galaxies.

But I’m more than just rock,

look closely, you’ll find my exterior is flaking

and sometimes my humanity feels like it’s ruining me.

But, really, I enjoy the company because I’ve spent too many years alone

so, I’m sorry, I have to keep you close.

Don’t worry, there should be just enough distance

to appear like I wouldn’t care if you left,

like it wouldn’t throw me off my axis,

but the sea betrays me.

The tides extend themselves towards you,

hoping to get ever closer,

and they get sad and small when you’re distant.

These tendrils of my life are reaching for you

in a way that’s hard to deny.

Sometimes I don’t want to.

It’s so very cold out here and

I’ve reached the point in my years where I don’t like the loneliness

or the pressure, there are billions of me, but it seems

I’m the only one around.