tonight
I write about the stars.
or try to.
they’re far.
still,
they stay.
so I stay up
talking to them
like they answer.
tonight
I also write
about you.
I don’t mean to.
sometimes
I loved you.
fast.
before I could think.
slow too
like I had time.
sometimes
you loved me back.
in a way
that felt like
it needed something
to hold.
I remember the rain.
your voice in it.
your eyes,
a place
I stayed too long in.
your skin
carrying
where you came from.
I remember
loving you.
I wish
I didn’t.
sometimes.
Apr 13
Apr 13, 2026 at 8:53 PM UTC
tonight
I write about the stars.
or try to.
they’re far.
still,
they stay.
so I stay up
talking to them
like they answer.
tonight
I also write
about you.
I don’t mean to.
sometimes
I loved you.
fast.
before I could think.
slow too
like I had time.
sometimes
you loved me back.
in a way
that felt like
it needed something
to hold.
I remember the rain.
your voice in it.
your eyes,
a place
I stayed too long in.
your skin
carrying
where you came from.
I remember
loving you.
I wish
I didn’t.
sometimes.
A little Neruda
Request permission to use this poem