It is waning when it is about to become dark...the colors gently sliding each day until gone.
It is the stage when even night is darker...like water at the bottom of the ocean. A few lights to pinprick but nothing stains the night.
It is no longer full...no longer high. It is lowering and emptying...trading in light for a shadow.
Slipping away...sliding off the edge.
The way I let your fingers slip away from me...the last tip of your index finger finally falling away and returning by your side.
It is now a quiet and cold comfort...like the moonlight that once shaped a silhouette of you in a room with me.
Perhaps you are outside too at this moment...but doubtful...it is very late...the sounds of a city muted and distant.
You are likely asleep...long ago...long before a tired and pale moon clawed itself up for another night against the sky. It is starting its descent, quiet and slow...
and it feels like it is the only thing I can see...the only thing visible to me. It is the only other item in the universe and it is right here in front of me...it is, seemingly, touchable...at least if I jumped...and it stays there...distant...quiet...waning. It is...what you used to be...what you are becoming.
But still my only other item in the universe.
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