I wake up hours before sunrise and stare at the silver stars
painted into the black ceiling of our bedroom.
They are now peeling, the falling sparkles  
covering my body;
creating a burning sensation
deep inside of me.

I have invested so much in space
exploration, computing the distance between life forms.
I notice our forms that once fit together
like Pangaea, are now drifting
between ever increasing expanses of blue.

Each night I play peek-a-***** into the abyss
alternately covering my eyes with the rapid movement of my mind;
skirting the topics of emptiness and happiness.

I sit on the edge, the outer edge, the very outer edge
of my bed
masquerading as the very outer edge of the universe
and I reach
for all that is larger than me, for all that is still
inside of me.

I stare into my hands, those tender uncalloused hands
that once held us together,
and watch as they float away.