They say that stars are just little ***** of flaming gas
so basically, when you look at a star, you shouldn’t see its beauty,
you should see it at face value.
I started doing this when I looked at your face’s value,
and I think that’s when things started falling apart.
When a star’s life is ending, it becomes heavier with chemicals,
so I think when I started getting that suffocating feeling in my chest,
I should have dropped your hand,
but I read that it takes stars over a billion years to die, so I figured you and I still had some hope.
Supernovae are explosions that outshine entire galaxies,
reds, blues, purples, shimmering colors of every hue streak the otherwise black canvas of outer space, dusting every corner of the explosion site with magnificent shockwaves of intergalactic light.
Eventually they fade out, and you can never see them again,
but despite that they are still arguably the most important stellar event.
They are so powerful the Earth’s sphere can literally be affected if the explosion is too close,
sometimes they’re so powerful, when a supernova fades, a black hole is formed, because all the energy has nowhere to go.
I think I’m in my black hole stage now.
Everything is quiet-
except when the memories of our time together forcibly make their way on the planetarium ceiling,
and I just can’t look away from the twinkling stars that shine in your eyes for me.
And here’s another fact, stars only appear to twinkle because of the way the Earth’s atmosphere deflects light,
so maybe I should have turned up the brightness and realized the facade of your flickering eyes.
I remember sitting on my bed, and letting you trace the freckles on my cheeks with your fingertips,
forming constellations with your mind and when I asked what you were doing,
you replied with “stargazing”,
like I was the most beautiful galaxy you had ever had the privilege to study.
Galaxies are formed by gravitational attraction,
so without that force of intensity pulling you back to the linens on my mattress,
I think our binary star system fell apart, and a supernova of our own occurred between us.
A galaxy can hold up to one billion stars in its hands,
which makes it so hard for me to understand why I sifted through entire tons of burning gas,
just to pluck your star from the masses and add it to my horizons,
and then lose you in a shrouded nebula cloud.
Holding your hand never felt so right while we were watching the night sky in my backyard,
I’ll never forget the way you turned to me with your bright brown eyes that made every one of those stars look pathetic, and confessed that you had just seen your first shooting star.
I couldn’t help but correct you and say that there is no such thing as shooting stars,
only meteors, that somewhere along the line,
were granted the romanticized name, making them much more intriguing than they really are.