the end of the moon

the winter moon stands at the top of his nest and bids adieu.

her colors changing,

her waist expanding and shrinking until they all blend together to disappear.

my hands have been frozen for days but i stretch my neck into space and give its swollen skin a kiss.

space is not empty but neither am i.

if the sun disappears tomorrow will we react the same?

trembling until our toes fall off our bodies?

waiting until the temporary darkness becomes permanent?

i wish i knew