The moon wouldn’t sleep tonight.
Too full of stories,
too wired on memory,
spinning her shine across the restless sky.

I know that feeling —
when the mind won’t hush
and the heart keeps pacing the room.

So I sat with her,
two insomniacs trading secrets,
laughing at the way healing
shows up like a drunk friend at midnight,
loud, uninvited,
but somehow exactly on time.

When the sun rose,
she finally closed her eyes.
And I finally forgave the parts of me
that still pulse in the dark.

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