In the middle of the night,

only the Moon and the Darkness know my heartache with such detail they could describe how I burn to the Sun.

And she would understand.

How sometimes I burn with passion, and sometimes I burn with pain.

The Moon and Darkness might be concerned that someday I will burn myself to ash, but the Sun knows.

The Sun knows the burning, with all the pain and passion, the heat and light so bright it cannot be touched. 

The Sun understands that burning is how we know we are alive.