I once loved the moon, she was mysterious, had nice hands and lovely cheeks.
Her laugh was beautiful, but she didn't know it. Instead, she would say my smile was precious, so I would smile for her, I would always smile for her.

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I loved her a little, maybe, because I didn't want to be with her, she was so far.
She was so far, and still, she was with me.
I loved her because she made me feel special. I had never felt special, but she was high up in the sky, and she was with me.
She shined at night, she shared secrets with me. She shined at night, but sometimes her light would be so sad. She would cry asking for help, saying how beautiful person I was, begging me to never change. But I did change, so maybe I didn't love her.

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While some of her nights would be flooded by melancholy, some would be ephemerally happy. We would listen to music she used to like that I had never heard before, but when I was lisnening to it, I would think I undestood everything.
I once loved the moon, but probably I only loved the feeling she brought to me. With her I was such an amazing person, when in reality I was just as simple as anyone else.

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I will correct myself, I once liked the moon, saying love is too pretentious. She was far, mysterious, and I could stare at her for hours, I could hug her for hours. She liked me too, a little at least, and seeing her flirting was so satisfying.
Then, anyway, I decided that I could not stare at the moon forever, I could not only smile to the moon, it wasn't good for me. Because as you can imagine, I could not find a way to keep the moon only for myself, and later that was going to hurt. It's okay now, I realized I didn't love her, but need her, so if you ever see yourself
dazzled by the moon, don't fear, play a little, she likes playing, but keep in mind that sooner or later, you will have to let her go to stop smiling for her, and start smiling for you.

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