are you here?
the softly spoken words fade into the pale moonlight as soon as they leave my lips.
the cold mists wrap around my ankles as I sit under a leafless tree awaiting my answer. one that will never come.
the bench of metal is icy against my back, but I cannot tell if I shiver of chill or of fear.
the moon tonight, full and beautiful, is a kindness to me. while it offers no warmth, I do find companionship in it.
the moon, my friend. full of tears and memories and longings and heartbreaks. a deep chasm of grief that is filled to overflowing every night by those who, like me, are seeking peace.
the moon has been with me many nights; a well of my tears. at times I cannot even say why I cry, and yet the tears come anyway.
its soft light wraps around me in a chilling solidarity. it knows my question hangs in the air, an answer never to be returned.
I ask the question because I do not know what will happen if I were to not ask. to stop asking the question would mean your second death - the memory of you fading into the same moonlight that envelops me now.
are you here?
