She was a star:
Burning,
               Distant,
                             And beautiful.

Love is not a phenomenon that echoes throughout the cavities of our chests.
Love is not a fuzzy feeling, or the goofy smile you get whenever somebody holds your hand.
Love is not late night calls, or midnight meet ups and stolen kisses.
Love is not a drum in your chest or a butterfly in your stomach.

Love is a chemical.
A hormone.
An impulse.

But here's the beautiful thing about us:
We choose to give it meaning.
We humans love from our hearts,
As if we actually could.

Please,

Turn my body
Into a garden
When I die.

Maybe flowers
Will grow out
Of the same eyes
That used to cry.