i've been told time and time again that
we are made of stardust, to the point where it's
not even poetic anymore, it's just
science. and while they're something beautiful in
chemical reactions and the attraction between
us and the earth's core, there is nothing beautiful
about the way biology was ruined for me
in seventh grade when we dissected frogs and i realized
that's actually what we look like inside-
we don't house constellations or milky ways or anything
worth staring at
                            (but even still, i couldn't look away).

i wonder if there's any chance of us being rescued from our flesh,
i wonder if maybe one day after we're turned to dust
again, our remnants will break free of earth's gravity
and we'll get the chance to be stars once more.

(i wonder if the reason we reach towards the sky at night
is because we can feel our brothers calling us back home)

for all the times you were the only one
who could make me genuinely happy,
thank you

(i mean it)

i am not in love
with you, but i am in love
with the way you smile

when you get simply
overwhelmed by something too
beautiful for words

If you are of something
you're there.

My bed feels empty
without you even
though you never
slept here. So isn't
it funny how your
side of the bed
still belongs to you
in a place you
weren't a part of?

when he asks if you're in
love with him,
*lie