Selenophilia

I stare at the moon,

trying to find a glimpse of your face,

sneaking behind the black calderas

spread on its surface.

Oh, there hangs the glinting orb,

with its ethereal shine intact.

Not punctuated with your memories,

not holding your saccharine smiles.

Not painted with my love for you,

for all the love had spilled out 

from the celestial delight,

when I realized that you'd never love me.

Perhaps, this is how a closure feels.

Perhaps, from now, I can

look at the moon peacefully,

without warm tears wetting my cheeks.