To wish on a star is to call to someone who doesn’t exist. To call to someone who has no body, other than the light surrounding the life they never lived. To see their soul reflected on the ground in the form of a screaming child.



To wish on a star is to hear the beating of wings against the roars of the winds beneath you as you fall. To fall into an abyss of red and white and blue and gauze. To walk back to your parents on your grandfather’s birthday and walk back out of the hospital doors.



To wish on a star is to float over seas of red, blue, yellow, green, and purple. To be hunting for someone who never entered that door, and yet is found in the middle. To walk through new doors into mountains you’ve never seen.



I’m that screaming child. I’ve been in the air, under the ground, in the oceans, gone into the heavens, soared through seas of stars, the winds nipping at my eyes as I close them and wake up. Turning to the sickly orange concrete stars beside my bedroom, I look up. Up into the blues, pinks, purples, and blacks of the universe. Through the clouds, through the snows, through the voids calling the name I never had, I can see a star. Dancing so brightly with his moon. I want to be that star. I want to be on that distant planet. I want to burn through the core of the earth I walk on and leave everything. I don’t want it. I want to run. I want to feel the green softening underneath my feet. I want to feel my lungs burning as I lift myself off the ground. I’m soaring now. Over the fields, over the towns and cities, over the mountains resting below the clouds. The cold stabs me like a forgotten sword, but I pull my sleeves down and close my eyes… and I dive. Past the mountains, past the cities and towns, past the cliffs I nearly hit. The water doesn’t greet me too well. It’s hard but warm, and soon, it hugs me. I’ve fallen into the hug now. The water lifts me up onto his hands and kisses the top of my head, calling me his love. I’m crying now. It feels good.



I like this.