My love,
your words are beautiful.
They are.
In so many ways.
They spark like fireworks.
Bright and warm.
So beautiful.

Until the dawn comes
and we go back to our own axis,
and you're a million miles away
even though, I am right beside you.
I would hold your hand for some semblance of connection.
Desperate.
But my heart can never seem to reach you.
And you would smile like you're here,
but the truth is, I am not your home.
Not anymore, my love.
And for a moment, through your journey's silence,
you'd hear the feint cries of my heart.
But only just. Like a whisper through the wind.
And then you would say all the words.
All the beautiful words,
like it would bandage the rift of galaxies between us,
but you don't realize
that at the end of every word's tune,
just as they could reach the stars,
they die.
Just like fireworks.