he was the stars,
watching during the day
and shining throughout
the night.

he was firmament and vastly seas
pushed together, the
semi-broken pieces
of existence.

he tells me
every terrible thing he
had done and i kiss them
all better.

he was the wind,
caressing the crevices of
a poorly lit street, whispering
warning signs to
trepid vessels.

he was the sun,
sparing creatures who
are too petrified like an expensive
glass dangling onto dainty
lips muttering never-ending
victorian poetry.

he tells me
about the bad days as if it were
kids daring each other to ring
the doorbell.

he was the safest method of self-mutilation,
cradling lullabies for
unblemished and
unwavering hearts.

he was every nook and cranny,
repeating resplendent lines as if
it was the only way to
utter goodbye.