the sun loved the moon.

"sew me a sweater, using only the finest of moonbeams."

 the sun had told me earlier this day. 

so i traveled from planet to planet,

until i had every moon in sight.

my brain clasped a grasp over the silver moonlight

flowing in the skies.

i gripped it from the seams

and pulled

and pulled 

until the moons were unraveled at my fingertips. 

i pricked my fingers on the pins

and burned my eyes from the thread,

but after what seemed years of working and pain,

the masterpiece was done.

by the time i had given the sun all the beams i could find,

sewed into one small work of art— 

it unraveled at our fingertips,

stardust dripping down my nails. 

why work to capture the moment, 

if it moves on without you anyway?