Your heart wants to say the raw thing, and you wince at the idea of cracking the lovely surface of the evening. The Moon keeps the deep feeling on one arm of the beam, Venus the wish to keep the scene gracious and whole on the other. Say it bare and you feel coarse for it. Smooth the edges and a worry says you sold your own feeling out. So your home can look beautiful while you sit lonely inside it, and your closest moments can be deep and messy like a half-built room. The truth of it lands late: beauty and feeling are not enemies. A feeling said well is its own kind of lovely. A loveliness that hides the feeling, given time, goes hollow.
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