The moonlight always seemed to keep its secrets from those who searched them out. She held onto a strange knowledge that enchanted as well as frustrated. What secrets had she seen under the cold gaze of the night?

Something as simple as two boys on the beach, their hands buried beneath the sand, their lips entwined, their eyes ashamed to meet one another. Two black boys whose skin turned blue under the moon's glow.

What else was there to understand?

Even in Atlanta, the moon never left Chiron's mind. Even under the warmth of his blankets, in the solitude of his bedroom, the he still felt as though he wasn't alone.

When the moon's light crept through his drawn curtains. When the moon's light seeped beneath the night's drapes on the cold streets of Atlanta. Chiron felt himself dissolve into something less than what he was. In moonlight, black boys look blue.

In the embrace of the starry night, a man was a teenager again. And a teenager was a boy who took bubble baths with dish detergent. Beneath the fading moonlight, a kiss on the beach is a testament of courage. Amongst the broken streetlamps, a drug deal is a reminder of a lost father figure. Where old Blues records were still sold out on the street corners by dudes with dreads. Where Jazz played by musicians of yester year was hummed by the stars who watched music form. It was at dusk where the smoke from coke laced lips curtailed into the air, only to be forgotten by the next puff. Lips that had tasted the love of another man. Lips that had left behind the experiences of boyhood. Lips that rolled the word "Faggot" around like a marble, only to be spat out.

What was the real message?

Chiron could not understand. Nor did he want to. Not really. There was too much fear to think clearly. And too much regret to move forward.

Beneath the moon's gaze, black and blue were interchangeable.