You would walk into her room to find an awful mess. All the stars in the universe laid across her bedroom floor as she had plucked them one by one unsatisfied with every purchase.

No wonder I didn't see any stars last night.

I found her curled up on her bed crying. She said nothing was wrong with the most beautiful smile on her face simultaneous to her tears flowing like graceful Nile river wannabes.

You could see her pain. She was really ****** when it came to hiding it.

Sometimes you'd be looking straight into the eyes of pain, but you'd momentarily fall in love because it's so beautiful.

Despite her pain and her messy *** room there were days where she loved herself more than anyone else. And those days were frequent.

And on those days you could see how truly beautiful she is. It's like God took much longer when he made her, kinda like he was finessing her design.

I told her exactly that once and she replied:

"He made me weirdly pretty I think, like not normal pretty. Weird pretty. Idk."

Perhaps you and I are an eclipse
and our life spans are the time before and after it. As to make sure it only happens once.

And we will glance at one another for a long moment before our fingertips slip through the space between our hands like desert sand.

One last time I will tell you how the stars were always just the light in your eyes, shining through the cracks in my bedroom ceiling and I was merely the darkness inside the room.

If I could stand on my tippy-toes, the way you like it, I would lasso planet HAT-P-7b and place it in your chest between those stars that made you.

But you will vanish from my sight and take my universe with you. And I, spacebound, will travel another 7 years into the next lifetime to find your arms around me in the morning.

Even if our next eclipse lasts only 7 minutes and 31 seconds.