I watch her face as she talks about him. like he was her sun and now there are only dark moons.
years later, I watch her face again as he comes pouring out of her mouth. she speaks about the beauty of nightfall, like it’s an old friend. the way the moon can be orange or gray or silver or fiery gold or nothing at all. the way the stars shoot out of people’s eyes. the way it illuminates all people’s truths.