The moon shall never belong to the sun.
It was already past midnight, he was supposed to have his nose buried on all the documents on his desk; he needed to read them, comprehend them and sign them. But his mind was not willing to accompany him on his studio, no, his mind had flown away, far, far away; to a small apartment in Chicago, where he often met her.
He had tried –for quite a while– to concentrate on his job, but he could not do it. He re-read more than three times the same page, and every single time, when he finished it, he was surprised to notice that he couldn't remember a single word. He reprimanded himself and tried, really hard, to make himself understand that his responsibilities were bigger and more important than his melancholy; but he couldn't. Not that night. So he stood up from behind his desk, and walked towards the window. He leaned his shoulder against the wooden framework, pressed the left side of his forehead on the cold glass, and raised his eyes to the sky, letting his thoughts wander around freely. Letting them reach her. No strings attached.
There were no clouds. the stars sparkled, and the full moon –brilliant and beautiful–, made a spectacle worthy of those in love with mother nature, or poets seeking inspiration, or –like him– of those who hold a sad and broken heart.
Many weeks had gone by since the last time he saw her. He had counted more than twenty seven days, with all of their hours. He knew she was fine, -after all he had taken care of her, even without her noticing-, but, God! He never thought he could miss her so! He longed for her smile, her cleverness, her clumsiness. He wished to see her, talk to her, hear her laughter; but he could not do that. Not just yet.
Still with his mind away from his body, he kept on watching the moon. He allowed his eyes to get hooked by its beauty. And suddenly, he started to feel a bit foolish and corny, especially when he started to compare the moon to her. They were both free and gorgeous. They both could have easily bewitched even the most cautious of hearts. There was no way for you to know their entire story, but with only one look from their eyes, they could make you unveil your deepest secrets. Their presence had some kind of magnet that made it impossible for you not to try to get close to them, to contemplate them... to love them. Or at least, that was what happened to him. A couple of minutes were enough to make him admire her, and with their daily coexistence, he fell madly in love with her.
He placed his hand on the glass, and tried to touch the silver disk, moving his fingers through the window trying to reach it, up above in the sky. Even on that, they were alike. So many times he had her close, but he was never brave enough to caress her. He had tried to steal a fleeting touch of her skin, but he never got the courage to take her face between his hands, and let his feelings take control. He respected her way too much. He loved her too much. He could have frightened her, he could have... actually, he never did anything because he wasn't bold enough and was afraid of her rejection. He had several opportunities, he even saw on her eyes a particular brightness that made him dream with a thousand outcomes, but he couldn't. Through all the time they were together, he did not find the nerve to do what he most wanted.
And thus, he fell in love, slowly, of those green eyes that on a moment knew more of him than he did. Of her voice that reached to parts of his soul he didn't know existed. He did not react fast enough to lift his protective walls. Once he was in the world where she had leaded him, he could not come back. Her simple moves erased him from reality. Her spontaneity and honesty made him dream.
"You are like my sun", she once told him, and he felt he was the luckiest of men. But now, whenever he thought about it, the sun and the moon... that was the cruelest and realest of all comparisons.
He had heard the story of those tragic lovers, condemned to live always close but forever apart. One did not exist without the other, but they could never share the same sky. No. he did not want to be the sun. He did not want to have her close to him, without the opportunity of ever touch her. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, tell her what he felt, that he loved her. But he had lost his chance.
He could do nothing but to accept that if she was like the moon and he was her sun, then he would watch her from the distance. He would try to keep her brightness on, and then he'd let the stars surround her, they would be the lucky ones to share her time and space. He would have to resign himself -just like the sun did- she would be her moon: beautiful, captivating, ever distant, never his. He would have to accept, that just like the moon does not belong to any one, he could never call her mine. Because, even when it was his greatest wish, and in nights like that his melancholy demanded her proximity, and her hands were eager of her caresses; the truth was undeniable: even when the king of all the stars, loves her with all of his strength, the moon shall never belong to the sun.