I love the sun. Always have. The heat that kisses my skin ignites a fire inside me, one that lingers. Problem is the sun is too beautiful to look at. Once as a little girl I stared at the sun so long I had to go to the hospital and have my eyes wrapped up. The whole drive home I attempted to feel the sun with every other sense I had, but to no avail. All I could do was imagine with all my might. Problem is the sun is just too beautiful to feel. You’re lucky to be able to imagine.

                My fascination grew with every sunrise and I became fonder with each sunset. Sometimes, I would cry when night time came simply because its nothing but hours of the sun’s absence. The moon was pretty, yes indeed, but the moon was not strong like the sun. Whenever I had the chance I would bask in its light all day without any thought of what was to come. My flesh burned so badly, my skin peeled away and oatmeal baths were all I could stand. Problem is, the suns beauty is also strength.

                I wanted to be the sun so badly. To just be with the sun is all I ever dreamt of.

 The sun didn’t want me.

Between night and day, it was easily day.

You told me I reminded you of the moon.

That’s the day you broke my heart.