Moonlight trickles through the window and warms the soul like whiskey as the stars wink, daring us to tell our secrets; and we do.
They bubble up from the wells of our souls and spring forward into the space between us until we're breathless and lost in our words.
Nighttime loosens the tongue and coaxes forth the darkest thoughts.
They leap from our brains and through our mouths and hang between us like dirty chandeliers.
Instead of tucking them away quietly, and pretending they didn't escape, we watch the way the light glitters off of them and we hang more in the air.
The glint of our truest thoughts is different in the softer, paler light of the moon.
They don't seem so dangerous hanging there between us like that.
They seem more delicate, more genuine, more unique.
We close our eyes on them before the sun comes up so we don't have to watch them transform from darkly beautiful antiques to the monstrosity that the sunlight makes of them.
And then we wait until the horizon has gone dark to pull them out and stare at them again, in the glow of the moon, giving into the coxing of the stars.
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