There was a time when she thought love was the dark side of the moon: there, but hidden from view. Unattainable and mysterious. Impossible. And, for many years, this was so.
By all accounts from the people who "knew" her best, she was the full moon: luminous, mesmerising. Complete.
But even the full moon is only half itself.
She once caught a glimpse of the moon in its entirety. Of its dark side - its love side, and for a whole month of its cycle she loved and rejoiced in its slow, measured rotation from dark to light, forgetting the laws of the cosmos where unrelenting and timeless. Forgetting that light would again be dark and love again be lost from sight.
The cliff face was high and bright by the light of the full orb in the inky sky. Directly overhead, its pocked face was cast onto the watery surface many feet below, its flawless outline blurred by the tears she wept.
She dropped into the light, falling for what felt like eternity before plummeting through the perfect image, her tears melting into the salty water, becoming one with the ancient origin.
She fell through the light and into the darkness behind.