Blame the moon for what she started, casting secrets through the blinds, catching something half-forgotten somewhere underneath my mind. Every phase disturbs the quiet, moves the edges out of place, and I never see it coming till I feel the slightest change. There it is. I keep telling myself it's nothing, just the night playing its part, but the dark has learned the pathway to a room behind my heart. Something turns when she is thinning, something rises when she's full. Let it move. And the part of me that vanished starts answering the pull. Blame the moon, she keeps waking what went quiet, with every phase another current finds its way beneath my skin. Waking up. Blame the moon, I was certain I had lost it, then a crescent crossed the window and I felt it move again. Again. Some nights she's barely showing, just an edge against the black, still she finds the hidden pieces I was never looking at. Then she fills the whole horizon, pulls the shadows from the room, and whatever I've been holding starts behaving differently too. There you are. Maybe nothing really leaves us, maybe some things simply wait for the right amount of darkness and a little shift in shape. Every phase reveals another version I don't recognize. Look closer. But she carries something familiar when I catch her in my eyes. Blame the moon, she keeps waking what went quiet, with every phase another current finds its way beneath my skin. Let it in. Blame the moon, for the pulse I can't explain, she disappears a little nightly and still comes around again. Maybe that's the trick of changing— nothing asks to stay the same. Neither do you. Lose the light, recover slowly, never needing to explain. Keep moving. I spent too long believing what went quiet must be gone. Then the moon changed shape above me and something underneath turned on. Blame the moon, every phase wakes something different, every shadow leaves an opening, every opening lets me through. Keep going. Blame the moon, she never promised me an answer, only changed enough to show me I could change a little too. There you are. And when morning takes the window and the night releases blue, I won't blame myself for waking. I'll blame the moon.
