I wonder when I
began to take things
in stride.

Never fazed by
actions or
emotion

Only ever faltering
at hints of
hurt

Quickly ignored
swept beneath
others

My arms ache from
holding their
position

Why is it my hugs
are always
abandoned

Perhaps the only
constant detail is
me.

The stars care not
For your fears
Not for your happiness
And not for your tears
For they are above you
They don't feel as you do
And they shine far brighter
Than your eyes

The stars care not
If you shout or scream
Or cry at the top of your lungs
For the stars are simply
The sort of stuff
The would peel away the fabric
That made up your body
As if it were a tiger
With its claws
In silk curtains

The stars care little
Of your problems and less
Of your stress
And if it were possible
To be more apathetic
I’m sure the stars
Would achieve that as well
For stars are far greater
Than you’ll ever be
(Or so they tell me
In science class
Where I learn the volume of a star
Would easily consume
Our planet)

The stars care not
For you or me
For the stars are intangible
Too far to reach, yet
Too close to seem
Otherwise.

The sun, in comparison
Is warm and caring
The sort of love that can burn
If exposed too long
But only hurtful
When it’s been gone
And only then
Do you feel the burn.
Until then,
You lay and send
Your love to the sun
Who is closer than stars
And less cold, as well

Their light blinds
Like the morning sun
For each star
Is a sun
To someone.

blah blah
                       blah
                                      poetry

I message the girl I love
     "I miss writing poetry"
I miss the way syllables
     and sounds orient themselves
A line dance I haven't done
    in years, but know the steps
A sleeper agent to the way
    that used to be the only way
Back when my feelings were opaque
    and dusty, indiscernible
Before I knew what anger was
    without heat and fear
    and raised voices
Before I knew safety as something
    permanent, more tangible
    than ghosts
Once, poetry was my first language
    prose second, RP third,
A way to communicate without speech
    without uhms and uhs
Before I learned to ******* my way
    through public speaking
Poetry
    A line and feeling, a dance
    Syllabic sign language
I message the woman I love
    "I miss writing poetry"
Pick up a pen
    and write.