on telling the moon your secrets

she will keep them for you, i promise

My first communion picture. If they only knew I was praying to the moon the whole time… ooof.

when i was little, the moon became my silent confidant, a celestial being i revered as if it were a god.

night after night, i would sit by my window, pouring my heart out to its gentle glow, believing that it listened and understood. the moon knew my deepest fears and dreams, my innocent wonders, and my childhood secrets. it was my private sanctuary, where the darkness of night felt less intimidating with the moon’s comforting presence. i whispered to it just enough so she could hear me but my sleeping brother wouldn’t. it’s the hardest whisper to do, ever.

as i grew older, my conversations with the moon evolved. it became the keeper of my secret loves and unspoken feelings, the witness to my heart's most intimate revelations. beneath its luminous gaze, i confessed my hidden desires and silent sorrows, feeling a sense of solace in the act of sharing. the moon, ever faithful, held my secrets within its radiant embrace, becoming a timeless symbol of my innermost self and the emotions i dared not voice to the waking world.

tell the moon your secrets
by edgard portela

moon, hear my soft plea—
their love is my endless sky,
stars blush as i speak.

tell me in the comments - who or what keeps your secrets? who is your confidante and why?