“Do you think the Sun

gets lonely up there?”

“Of course, she does, but

especially the moon, the spare.”

“So… what is loneliness?

What could you count it as?”

“That’s a long story, Darling,

but let’s start with a poem about glass.

‘Loneliness is merely a window,

but the curtains will never cover it.

Their presence is lost, missed,

but how can you miss something

that never had the chance to exist?’”

don’t mind me… I wanted to post this last stanza, and this is the way it went. Sooo…