She wanted to be in love
So she gave what she had to the boy from class
He took and took until there wasn't much left
The stars that fueled her became nothing more than dust that settled at the bottom of her lungs that stopped her from speaking up and left her with a nasty cough instead
She wanted to be in love, but not like this.
She gave up smoking and she let go of him
And she found herself among the ruins of a girl she once way but would never be again

You were six months shy of a miracle and two years past due
And I know you've been depressed for a while now
But I don't know how to be there for you
Because we're at the same bus stop
But I'm holding your hand and hoping it's enough
I know it's never really enough
But if it helps I will never let go

If I'm not in love tonight
I guess that's okay
Because I got drunk in my friends minivan
And she drove me around as I cried about you
We watched the stars like you and I used to
And when she pointed at the big dipper
I pretended I could place it
Truth be told, I was only ever looking at you
I can only see the milky way through your eyes
And the constellations on your lips
But if I'm not in love tonight
I guess that's okay

I've been on nineteen trips around the sun
And you see the stars in all those girls you sleep around with
And I can't help but think if our lives hadn't crossed paths
Maybe I wouldn't be in love with the way you look in the moonlight tonight
And you wouldn't pretend you see a galaxy inside of me
But then, maybe the stars aligned for you and I.

Broken bones never quite heal all the way, they're never quite as perfect as they once were.
We are like that, in a way.
We are strong until we snap, until we're just not.
You broke my heart that September night and ever since then, my heart has tried to mend itself, but like my arm I'll never be quite strong enough again.
They say broken bones break easier the second time around, I think that's true for me too.

You've forgotten what love was like in the same moment you couldn't quite remember what my perfume smelled like or how I said your name in my sleep. You knew it then--that you had misplaced the feeling of love in that girl from your astronomy class when you kissed her under the stars but could only remember holding my shaking body under the dim lights of the milky way when you knew you should have focused on the way her lips tasted. How did her lips taste, by the way? I have been meaning to ask. Did they taste like strawberry or blood? Did they taste like mine did that night in your bedroom when you swore you'd love me until the day you die? Or did they taste like broken promises and whatever drink she took a shot of last? Either way, you know you should be able to remember the way her hand felt in yours but you feel so guilty because you can only remember how we laughed at our clammy palms. I know you hope she doesn't get too upset when you're unable to keep your stories straight.

I never learned my lesson
"Stop haunting empty houses," they told me over drinks around my coffee table.
Their hands shook, too, but we all pretended to not notice when one of us stuttered our words or wasn't able to make lasting eye contact.
"You have to just move on," one said while they texted their ex and pretended they were liberated. I watched as my friends spaced out and took shots to numb the pain they buried deep beneath their floorboards, but they still heard the heart beats late at night.
"It's poetry, darling, and we're romantics," they cooed. There was nothing romantic about the way they cried themselves to sleep or spent hours trying to stop the bleeding when they cut too deep, but when you're unable to stitch yourself back together it's hard to do anything but nod.
Our eyes were all as empty as the night and we laughed about our pasts but we knew we would never be the same as we were back then, the same as we are tonight.
I never learned my lesson.