Oh my Cassiopeia
My queen; queen of Aethiopeia
Yours is an unrivaled beauty
No one can complain about your vanity

You love me
I love you more
Cepheus your king, how I wish I would be
To be with you forever and sit beside your throne

No, I'm not Cepheus; he probably is yet to come
I wish I'm your Cepheus, but I'm not even an Adam
But I can be your Cepheus if you let me, yes I can
Though I can't see your constellation from where I am

You can boss me around
Toss and turn me upside down
You can throw tantrums, those I won't mind
Forget being king, I'll be fine as your servant

You're a constellation, still I'll make a wish
Can I wish forever? No? Then let me love you at least
Let our love blossom, 'til my last breath vanish
Maybe I'll also become a constellation next to you, like what happened to Ray and Evangeline

Glistening by the comets like a flurry of hail in a frozen song
Shining like the steel of a warrior from Rome
Traveling through chains of stars and moons
Following a lion, a scale, and a winged-horse towards home

The lion is brave, known for its fury and rage
Burning through suns before each eclipse
Leo’s pride, strength, and forceful way of life
Makes enemies cower with a single roar from its lips

The scale emits a chord of peace and war
Both sides beginning with neither side ending
Neutral in its claims, but Libra promises this:
Balance holds worlds without space ever rending

The winged-horse is patient; smart, but wise
The land where it grazes is Elysium’s wish
To understand and to be understood
Pegasus rises from the shadow abyss

One road he must follow and only one gate to cross
With eternal life, time rises or falls like rain
He chooses no predetermined path
And all through space, knows of Cepheus’s reign

like constellations, we are connected
connected by wishes and assurance
that if we follow each other  
we will reach heaven

Alive and dying.
Ashamed like who I am
My favorite thought is now my worst nightmare
Hatred for my desires
I could let my heart decay no problem
until i realize I’m still alive once more
the ending won’t be happy
the hope for a new beginning is real
far away from utopia
as Cassiopeia cries for the Orion
and bound to Cepheus

Do you recall that time?

You were resting your head on the creased pillow
while my palm traced the patterns of your moles.
I'd run the tip of my fingers,
almost without weight,
on your bare skin, and
draw the constellations of unremembered stars.

Cassiopeia, I'd say.
Or Betelgeuse, the hand of the giant.
Antlia. Cepheus. Pictor. Pavo. Musca.
Orion the Hunter.

Do you remember those times?
I guess not.

Because you've always been the blind and
I've always been the poet.
These wonders escaped your notice --
you dull, specious creature with
your dull, specious brain.

Those moments were spectacular.