The Moon

When he looked at her, he saw a work of art. He admired her as if she were the moon, in that he never looked at her except in despair. She was full and vibrant. He lived in the light she radiated and searched for her when disheartened and hopeless. A feeling of pensive sadness fell over him when with her, but was filled with sentimental longing during the daylight.
That is when he'd catch a glimpse, thinking she was most beautifully out of place, oftentimes leaving him empty-hearted. Even though his vision was not always clear, she was the first thing he would notice, amongst the stars. But it was in darkness she truly shone. The light entered through him like shattered glass. Once he perceived that brokenness was a form of art, he became a masterpiece.

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