Talking to the Moon

I know you're somewhere out there

Somewhere far away

In the hallway, the clock strikes twelve. You turnover in your bed, your eyes shut tight, as if that'll lure you away from your thoughts into sleep. It doesn't work. Finally, you give up. You get up and walk over the window seat. The moon shines high and bright in the sky.

"Rose," he says, "Rose I'm sorry."

He doesn't mean it. He never did.

"Forgive me," he says, "Please."

He doesn't care about you at all. He's not fooling anyone.

"Rose?" he asks, taking a step closer to you.


"I love you Rosie," he says, taking a step closer, "I know you love me too."

That's where he was wrong. Because he asked you out before he even knew you. Because he told you he loved when he didn't even know you. Because…because…because he was right.

You admit, you didn't love him at first. At first, you thought he was mean and arrogant and just a horrible person. But you still think he is that. He walks around like he's better than you, pointing at you when he sees you in the halls, smirking, and walking up to you and tell you he loves you. And then the next day he tells you he's kidding and that obviously he doesn't even like you. How could anyone like someone like you?

And you, you don't know what to believe anymore, but he's got your head spinning and you're heart beating faster whenever you see him and sometimes you can't stop thinking about him, and if that's not love, you sure as hell don't know what is.

But he still plays these games with you, still you love him. You still want him. But you know you can't have him because your parents will kill you for dating or loving him. Besides it's too late. Because he hasn't bothered you in forever, so obviously he doesn't want you anymore. And how could he? You're so ugly with your frizzy red hair that can never be tamed and your unflattering freckles. He was probably just kidding all along. He probably never really liked you anyway.

"Rose, I love you."

"Liar," you whisper, "Liar." The tears start to pour down your cheeks. It's hard to suffer from heartbreak. But it's even worse to know that you can never tell anyone about it. But you still love him. If he ever told you that again, you don't know how you'd react.

But then again, every time he told you he was kidding, there was a look of hurt in his eye, like he was trying to say, "Now, I'm not." But of course he was just kidding. He couldn't ever like you.

But maybe he was, and maybe you did hurt him. Maybe he did love you. But it's too late now. Much too late now. It's over. The damage has been done.

"I'm sorry," you say, only this time, you're talking to the moon.

Maybe he'll hear it.

It's not like he'd be listening anyway.

Cause every night I'm talking to the moon

Still trying to get to you

A/N- This for was thefirstservant's Chinese Moon Festival Competition, the Separation Slice and ladyoftheknightley's School Subjects Challenge (Astronomy). Talking to the Moon, by Bruno Mars is my favorite song, so I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!