I never called her closer, but they always said

I never called her closer, but they always said: if it's love, make it known, take a step closer to her, those who watch from afar write fables and dreams born of longing, but those who come closer write true stories, full of essence. But who knows, what seems like the moon from afar may become dust, light can turn into a sad smile, a dream dispersed, a breath too close and the illusion might shatter in the night, leaving only shadows to dance in the sky, like an echo of desires. I stayed far away, perhaps my love lives in this distance, like the moonlight that blooms only from afar, enchanted and untouched, but if I take a step too close, I may find a desolate land, where silence reigns and life seems just a distant and cold dream. My love, like the moon, the farther it stays, the more beautiful it is, so I chose to remain at the edge of the dream where the moon is eternal, though my heart sings a melody of closeness, the unquenched longing is the essence, for true stories aren't written only with close and dear souls. Perhaps my love is a poem written on the endless night sky, with each verse kept at a distance, so the magic spell isn't lost, for longing turns distance into an eternal love story, where moons and stars weave a dance of silent and sweet eternity.