prose used to keep me up at nights

Surely no one has ever burned in moon rays, and waves and women aren't pulled into rhythm by the sun. By its very nature, the sun's face must be ever changing, what with all those violent flares. But the moon has always looked upon us the same, though its face is ugly and crater-pocked. They tell me that the sun is getting bigger, that it'll swallow up planets, that it’ll swallow up us. I believe it- not because science tells me so, but because I’ve felt myself burn when it looked too hard upon me.