Night

further than the moon

‘I love you to the moon and back.’

One of the most overused and underwhelming phrases I’ve ever come across. The moon and back isn’t a big enough measurement, if you actually love someone. Because it’s the closest thing to us, down on earth. The easy way out to is pick the closest floating rock by comparing it to their eyes and spouting other cliche phrases from your 'arsenal’ of ways to describe love.

No, the moon isn’t enough. I don’t love you to the moon and back, and you are not my sun and stars because if I look at the sky right now, I can’t see nearly as many stars as you deserve. And you are not the sun because how devastating would it be, if I could no longer look at you? If I couldn’t get near enough to touch you? No, we won’t get matching key chains with 'to the moon and back’ stamped on them, from a factory that makes thousands more. Because to the moon and back is no longer special. It’s ordinary.

Instead of the moon, I would rather give you entire galaxies, as many planets as I can find, and even the peaceful blackness of the entirety of space. I would give you stars that I’ve carefully hand picked, stars that glow green and gold, just like the colors in your eyes. Forget the moon, instead I’ll love you to Arcturus and back, because 36 light years is a better measurement than 238,900 miles. Or I’ll love you to Rigel and back, because 772 light years away is far enough for me to find you all the stars that I can give you.

I don’t want to love you to the moon and back because that isn’t far enough, and the big grey rock that billions of people stare at each night- it has already been promised to countless other people. Instead of capturing the moon for you, I’d rather move galaxies and gather constellations and stars for you to keep, because the moon simply isn’t enough to give, it isn’t far enough away to be an accurate measurement of what my love truly is.