In the sky there is a lonely star,
and in my heart there is a starless sky.

With the help of friends and methamphetamines
its been forty-eight hours since I've slept
but I am not tired.

Last night I laid awake on a lovely boy's couch
thinking of the moments we spent together
and I couldn't help but replay them in my brain
over and over,
hoping beyond hope for sleep
and you to share it with.

I guess I didn't see your scars,
blame it on the lighting or the beer,
but I knew they were there.
As my hands felt their way across your beautiful landscape,
I took special care not to rest them upon the raised, pink lines,
not wanting you, for even a moment,
to think the thoughts you thought when you created them.

I would tear my skin wide open,
stretch it across all the seas seven hundred times,
if it meant a single, tiny scratch would never find it's way onto your body with the guidance of your hand, the guidance of your starless night sky of a heart.