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?
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