The moon promised to keep secret
the darkness I keep in my pocket.
She saw me one night as I grinned
at the blackest of all of my sins.
Her light illuminated down on me,
and I heard her gasp quietly.
Not to worry, she whispered,
“Your secret’s safe. I give you my word.”
Yet I sit here and worry
as she smiles much too contently.
The stars twinkle and wink.
Is she telling them things?