Starved or over–fed by the stars,
Ivory tints to the shade of strawberries

Over Ripe
And wondering when she'll heal.

He's busy in his study, looking up the way
That a plant can cure the sting.

Often she wonders, as she looks to the sky
Do stars twinkle in morse code,
Whispering secrets for us to hold?

She feels too young to know the answers,
But she always finds her way.
She know the moon has begun to love her,
But she's always led astray.

And she holds onto his sweet nothings
Like it's a fraying rope,
Praying they'll survive this.

But he's been silent these past few days,
So she runs to the highest hill.
Looks up to the stars, asking for guidance.

And even the universe seems conflicted
And the divine asks for her advice on timing,
And she feels afraid, she's shrunk again,
And this time she's much too small to see.

The moon guiding her.
The stars wishing on her.
The sun tinting her pink to make her blush.
The universe pushing her forward.
All she sees is him, but he isn't looking back.

She sees him in their room at night,
and at the bottom of her chardonnay
She's so sure he'll speak to her,
So she stays, ready to listen.