A lover’s farewell song

What is blood to the moon but an alien wetness ?

What are the fading of your senses to Saturne’s rings?
How does the sun feel about your increasingly irregular heartbeat? About the flutter of your eyes?

The softness of your skin, your breathtaking beauty: they do not matter to the stars.

And Mars has no business with your pained breath that I watch so closely.

Your fear, your anguish, your unfaltering devotion to me. They truly mean nothing, not a single thing

to the universe.

My love,

You are but the product of a hazard, dissipating.

There have been countless of you before you, and a few more at the same time, a futile event lost in a sea of futility.

Why does love exist?
Is it a desperate attempt from our brains to give meaning to things, to make sense of this life?

Why does love exist? And if it must exist,

 Why do you have to die?