The moonlight through my window

he's crying again.
or singing.
and this time he's lying down.
i would fashion a pillow for him,
to rest his tired orb on,
but i wouldn't know who to address it too.

The Moon
Earth's Gravitational Field,
Solar System 34559b, Milkyway Galaxy 12958

the note inside the box,
underneath the pillow,
would read
"I thought you might be tired, so I fashioned this pillow for you.
I thought you might be allergic to down feathers,
so i filled it with all the love i could fathom.
I apologize ahead of time if it is not comfortable,
or if it is not enough.
i just want you to be happy.
Love,
little me. "

and after the pillow is sent to him,
i'll curl up on my bed,
pretending to believe myself,
whispering "you can make more love,
you have it in you"
and knowing that i'm spent.

tired, alone, cold,
the moonlight will wash my windows,
bathing me and my bed in light,
pretending to believe himself,
he will whisper "you can make more love,
you have it in you"
and together
we will know
i am spent.