The little things are what make you awfully interesting.

The Moon has always been my kind of guy.
He's a bit far away. There's that expanse of space, where it's just a vacuum. It sucks away at everything, except for his light, and it makes the distance okay.

Then I remember, maybe the Moon isn't my kind of guy, since his light isn't his own.

He steals from the Sun, who was never really my type. He was always too bright and hot.
Then I took another look, and I couldn't get enough of him. My eyes are damaged now from staring in longing at his too-bright face. The Sun is even further away than the Moon, however, and that's a distance I've come to loathe.

It makes me self-conscious.

What if there's no way for us to cross that distance?
What if one day the Sun remembers that iron is what will kill him and that I'm made up of 0.0004% iron?
What if he realizes that for me to live, a star had to die?
What if that star was his old lover?
What if he loved that star more than he's ever loved me?

Maybe I've over-estimated my ability to cross space with my Sun.
Maybe he could never forgive me for being a star killer.
Maybe I haven't spent enough time at space camp.
Maybe the Earth is too pretty for me to compete with.
Maybe there's just no way someone so bright could love someone as dim as me.

And before I knew it, my Sun was gone, taking all my worries away with him.
And I was left with just the Moon.

I guess 0.0004% was just too much iron for him to handle.