Where not even the moon cries

The night fell like a black shroud,
and the moon... the moon hid away.

It didn’t want to see what we had been,

nor hear the echo of our goodbye.

Your footprints vanished from my chest,

as if the wind had foreseen the end,

as if fate, cruel and straight,

already hated us without repent.

Your lips whispered “I love you,” trembling,

but your eyes screamed “I’m leaving”…

and I, a coward, was just bleeding,

unable to beg love that ceased to be.

Not even the trees whispered your name,

not even the stars wished you well,

the universe was a silent witness

to how I learned to fall and fail.

I knelt before your shadow,

prayed to you like a broken creed…

but neither Heaven nor God would listen,

only the void inside my room did.

The moon, proud, turned her back,

she couldn’t bear to see us fall…

not even she dared to face our ruin,

not even she recalled it all.

And in this grave with no flowers or cross,

I sleep with the kisses that won’t return.

You walked away with the light,

and I stayed behind with the eternal burn.