I stare at the stars in my head,
Forming one big constellation.
And I wonder if the lights know
They’re my stabilization.
And so, I look into the sky,
And so, I breathe into the night.
“I’d die for you,” I whisper to him.
“Do you know that?”
The stars are pinpricks in the black,
Small glimpses of worlds I’ve been blessed with seeing.
And yet, somehow,
They form a constellation,
One that consumes every inch of my mind.
“I’d do anything for you.”
It’s been weeks since the constellation
Has said anything back.
It’s been weeks. Months. Since it’s shone,
Brighter than a dying bulb.
I hope they do know.
That I would do anything,
Everything,
Thing after thing after thing,
For them.
“I’d die for you,” I whisper to the constellation.
“But please don’t die out for me.”
Because all stars have to burn and die,
But then what does that make of the constellation as a whole?