You are broken.
Constellations for a body, glimmering stars
playing connect-the-dots to create
a beautiful yet imperfect human form.
Black holes for eyes,
breathing in memories,
but anything positive loses itself in the abyss,
leaving you with nothing but past pain and heartache.


I am such a wreck.
Supernovas for a mind, always
exploding into a frenzy of anxious thoughts.
Pluto for a personality,
being overlooked, underappreciated, and pushed away.


But when looking through a telescope,
all anyone can see is cosmic, celestial hope.
I think between our luminescence and darkness,
We’d make a lovely mess.