Man in the Moon


The next time I fall in love, it will be with the man in the moon

because he is the best listener. 

Sitting on my windowsill I tell him everything, and he never interrupts—

you see, he doesn’t say much. 

But while some girls might think he’s too distant

I know he wears his stories in his eyes for me

so I can read about others who have come before,

crashing into his life, leaving craters that we both know I can’t fill

But he’s willing to let me try. 


And we’ll be completely honest with each other. 

He has seen the best of me, and the worst of me. 

I have told him about all of my ex-lovers,

he has heard me whisper their names in my sleep,

but he still comes back—

creeping into my room the next night as if to tell me I am forgiven. 

And I know he won’t be faithful to me either

I know there are a million other girls

with someone else’s name on their tongues to cover up the light he puts in their eyes,

but we never said we’d be exclusive.

Still, every time I find a boy who listens well and likes to read,

I feel a little guilty.  But he swears he doesn’t mind,

says even the sun succumbs to shadow sometimes.


Sometimes we like to make these grand plans,

things we want to do together someday. 

We say, someday we’re gonna go on vacation in Rome and see the Coliseum.

He just laughs and pretends he isn’t already there. 

He tells me, someday we’re gonna walk down the street

in broad daylight holding hands.  I tell him,

someday I’m gonna go to the beach and listen to the tide

so I can finally hear your heartbeat.


Now, I’m not naïve enough to believe he’ll always be there,

but at least when he disappears on me I know it’s just his time of the month again. 

Except he hates it when I make that joke,

so I save it for the nights when he looks his best and the whole world wants to see him. 

You’d never believe it, but he’s really self-conscious. 

When I tell him how stunning he is,

he likes to remind me that he is only wearing hand-me downs. 

I want to tell him that he wears them better than the sun ever could,

but I know he won’t believe me

any more than I would believe him if he said I was beautiful.


But he makes me feel that way sometimes,

when he stays with me on my worst nights

running imaginary fingers through my hair,

whispering just to let me know I am not alone—


Do you remember when we met? 

When you were kneeling in your father’s hay field

praying for everything to end,

and I recognized the light in your eyes

‘Cause it looked a little too much like my own. 

So we stuck together after that

we’d both heard too many stories about what happens

to people whose prayers are answered.

Do you remember our first fight? 

It was the day you found out that everything in the universe is connected by gravity

and you asked me if that was the only connection we had,

if everything else was all in your head. 

I didn’t think you could be serious, so I laughed.

Do you remember when you asked me if animal howls are just love songs?  

If I was some kind of choir master, if maybe I could teach you the lyrics?

Truth is, you already know them.

Love sounds the same in any language.



I like it!! its a beautiful story, but I can also feel your feelings through it!!

Kaitlyn Joy

I really like this concept! It's super creative. You got a little lost in the middle, but you brought it back at the end. Excellent job!


seems like a nice short story not poem!

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