On the bus ride home today I mistook a passing aeroplane for a shooting star and thought of calling you.

I found out recently that the longer you look at the sky, the more stars you’d find - I never got to tell you that. Maybe you would’ve been more patient with me.

I’m sorry if you thought I had to look up to see the stars. You should know that each time I looked at you I saw galaxies in your eyes. That when our skin touched for the first time I felt like I had experienced the entire universe. That laying with you in silence felt like I was floating in space. You should also know that when you left you formed a black hole in my chest that I still get ****** into every now and then.

*I’m sorry that I still miss you sometimes.