I used to see more than the cosmos in you, your eyes held them.
Your lips a forest I could spend my whole life exploring & die still not having enough.
Your hands roots of a rose bush seeping into my chest & to my heart.
Sharing your nutrients to help me grow,
Your mind the greatest unwritten poem, the greatest work of art that'll never be exhibited in an art gallery, even if it were to be put into one your dying wish would that it be sent to a public gallery that didn't charge because you hate capitalism.

But now you are a great big ball of old flame, high and mighty in the sky.
There's a huge distance between the two of us but I can still feel your warmth radiating from you & the dark when you are away. But you are the sun, staring or thinking of you hurts my eyes & the pain shoots to my head and throughout my body.

The time I spent trying to win your heart is the equivalent of the time a pregnant person would take to give birth to a premature baby.
And the time I've had these feelings is the time it would take such baby to learn how to walk.

So I hope she loves your floral dresses & the way your poetry echoes in the fullest of rooms. But most of all I hope she loves you.

Because you acted like all those who came before you were ******* , but only knew my side of the story, and from my side of the story you hurt just as much as the black haired girl who got me into drinking after she broke my heart.