Witness

During those nights,
the moon was hated.
I didn’t want the light
and kept on looking
for darkness that could
bring us closer, that
could make us listen,
that could make us forget
what we are in the light.

Tonight, I return to a place
where I think I see
us. I fear that you
have finally enjoyed
your mornings alone
and think that your nights
can be like that too.

Though I hated it,
I couldn’t discard
the moon. During those
nights, I only had it.
Together, we saw how
you dipped into the water
then shared the saltiness
of your skin and offered
the breath of the ocean.

Now, here,
I look for a witness
to tell me that our nights
ever existed. I
squint my eyes
skyward, there is
only the night.

— Jessrel E. Gilbuena