In the sky there is a lonely star, and in my heart there is a starless sky.
With the help of friends and methamphetamines its been forty-eight hours since I've slept but I am not tired.
Last night I laid awake on a lovely boy's couch thinking of the moments we spent together and I couldn't help but replay them in my brain over and over, hoping beyond hope for sleep and you to share it with.
I guess I didn't see your scars, blame it on the lighting or the beer, but I knew they were there. As my hands felt their way across your beautiful landscape, I took special care not to rest them upon the raised, pink lines, not wanting you, for even a moment, to think the thoughts you thought when you created them.
I would tear my skin wide open, stretch it across all the seas seven hundred times, if it meant a single, tiny scratch would never find it's way onto your body with the guidance of your hand, the guidance of your starless night sky of a heart.