We are the same,
tiny specks floating
weightlessly in the abyss.

We are the same,
orbiting the sun
but never moving forward,
only in circles.

We come from the same
Constellation. From the same
one heart in this universe

but we are drifting.
The gravitational pull
of our childhood is
weak and we are
left grasping
at falling
stars.

Burning up before we hit
the ground.

Absence of sound will send
us spiraling down.
black holes
distributing us into galaxies
that do not intersect.

But only if we let it.