what if we could write on the stars
the way we write with paper and pen?
in that case,
i would be writing love letters every night
for a pretty soul too far away.
i'd point my finger at the sky
and trace it delicately,
then you would go outside at night
the evening breeze would whisper "look up!"
and the constellations would tell of the love
an admirer sends to you by cosmic delivery
across distances of time and reality,
from a world much different from yours.

"Why? Why do you love me so much? Why won't you just let me go?" She stared at me while wiping away her tears. I couldn't tell if she was frustrated because she was crying or if she was frustrated at me. It seemed silly to get mad at someone for loving you, but there was a fifty-fifty chance that it was happening right now.

I reached out my hand lead by the extended tip of my index, driving away the tears beading around her eyes so she could see me clearly when I said, "one day I'm going to die, and I'm going to hate myself for that because I'll no longer be able to love you. So I love you with the unrelenting fervor I bring because if I had it my way, I would never have to stop."