The sun and the moon, contrary to popular opinion, were deeply in love with each other. They traipsed through ancient days, one basking in the glory of the other. But recently, they’ve had a falling out, because the sun always seems brighter. No one remembers the warmth of the moon except babies being fed and howling wolves. No one remembers the moon’s pale, ill reflection, as she sings songs for her lost lover, the sun.
“If I knew that today would be the last time I’d see you, I would hug you tight and pray the Lord be the keeper of your soul. If I knew that this would be the last time you pass through this door, I’d embrace you, kiss you, and call you back for one more. If I knew that this would be the last time I would hear your voice, I’d take hold of each word to be able to hear it over and over again. If I knew this is the last time I see you, I’d tell you I love you, and would not just assume foolishly you know it already.”—Gabriel Garcia Marquez (via inwardheartbeats)
“I wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. Not fuck, like in those movies. Not even have sex. Just sleep together in the most innocent sense of the phrase. But I lacked the courage and she had a boyfriend and I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane.”—John Green (via inwardheartbeats)