There are three ways to start telling this story. There are three moons in the sky, disguised as one.

The first moon watched us as we touched and tasted and knew that what we had was good. It listened to our music and it was witness to our secrets. The first moon caressed our minds as we slept and faded when we woke, stealing every memory of the visions and truth in our dreams. I heard your heart’s rhythm, calm and steady, and I was not afraid because you took my hand and told me that nothing could match my beauty. The first moon saw us pledged to ourselves, and it smiled at our promises because it knew all that we did not.

The second moon watched us as we touched and tasted and knew that what we had was good. It listened to our music and it passed judgement over our secrets as the first moon might have. It traced the outline of our dreams and left us to wonder at what the dawn brought because of the pieces that would not fit in the sunlight. Your heart whispered its history to me, bared your soul in my hands, and I loved you all the more for it even as the second moon wove its illusions around our future. I knew all I could not hope to have, and that made me hope more fiercely still.

The third moon watched us, knowing that what we had was good, but it waited and listened to hear our secrets, seeking to know our thoughts. Emboldened by the light of the third moon, we touched and tasted and dreamed deeply. You saw into my heart as I saw into yours, grasping each other’s thoughts and visions as our own and recognizing the truths of the past and present as themselves. The third moon sang secrets to us and we claimed them as ours, believing the beauty of every moment to be a reflection of the next even as the sun stole over the edge of the world.

There are three ways to end this story. There is one moon in the sky, and it has many faces.

There is one side to the moon that we will never see.

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